Picture, If You Will
by shandromand
Summary: This is pure AU crack fanfic based on Worm, by Wildbow. I own nothing, and I refuse to claim responsibility for this monstrosity. You'll never take me alive, coppa!
1. 1-1 - Genesis

Scion, the Golden Man, so-called First Hero was in the midst of quelling an earthquake in Uruguay when he heard a scream. So loud, so desperate that it was, he paused for the briefest of seconds. In that space of time he tilted his head, and then he turned to look. Any observer that might have actually been able to see would have missed it entirely.

To The Warrior, this amounted to two minutes of perceived time. The cry for help and its root caused him to frown. Call it a quirk of fate, or maybe a flicker of pity, but he couldn't leave his current task. He chose to help in the way he thought best. A shard was programmed, and a rock the size of Wrigley Stadium bounced off of his head. The distraction was minimal, but it was enough. The shard was then disconnected, targeted, and released. Microseconds later, he turned back to still the heaving earth. 

* * *

Taylor Hebert screamed. She screamed, and cried, and vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach. The stench was appalling and her skin howled and crawled. She could vaguely hear cruel, muffled laughter recede from the locker as she struggled and banged within its tight confines. "LET ME OUT! HELP! PLEASE!" Her shrieks echoed inside the confined space and seemed to mock her terror. Her heart hammered harder than her fists, and then she – {shorted out}. 

* * *

When Taylor awoke, she sat up and spun wildly around. Not that there was anything to see, because she found herself in a featureless white expanse. There was no sky, or ground, or anything at all. "H-hello?" she called out. She hugged herself, and realized that she wasn't wearing her school clothes. In fact, she wasn't wearing anything at all.

[GREETINGS]

Taylor Hebert screamed again and folded her legs against her chest in a vain attempt to cover her nudity. Her head whipped around, but she couldn't see who was speaking. She really wished that she had something to wear. No sooner had that thought gone through her mind that a rack of clothing appeared in front of her. It stretched impossibly wide and vanished into the distance in both directions. Practicality and extreme embarrassment drove her to her feet, and she snatched at the first articles directly in front of her. She hastily yanked on a plain gray t-shirt and blue jeans, all while scanning for the owner of the voice.

Once she was clad, she faced away from the impossible rack and searched the empty expanse. "Hello?"

[GREETINGS] the voice said. It was... Taylor didn't quite know how to describe it. It had a weight to it, massive and yet kindly.

The empty white-space was unnerving. "Where am I? Have I gone crazy?"

[INTERIOR SUB-DIMENSION ZERO. NEGATIVE.] The voice said, matter-of-factly. What the hell was that even supposed to – abstract shapes and concepts filled her mind, and they both made perfect sense and none at all. The shapes were large crystalline structures, but they twisted in on themselves and made her mind's eye wince at first. The crystals were at once objects, beings, and programs, and she had the distinct feeling it was a lot more complicated than that. But she got the basic gist: She was inside one of these things. She fervently hoped that the voice wasn't lying about her grip on sanity, and that she wasn't trapped forever.

"Were you the one that helped me?" she asked.

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

If a disembodied voice could preen, Taylor couldn't imagine it sounding any other way. "What are you?" She made a mental note to thank the... whatever it was, but first she needed to know.

[SHARD.]

"What the hell does that even mean!?" she shouted.

There was a delay in the response, as if it were thinking. [PURPOSE. NOMENCLATURE. EXECUTION.] The words came with connotation that she immediately understood. Shard was how these creatures identified as, what they were for, and how they went about doing it. The impressions were applied both as a group, and to this one in particular. It was staggering, as a wide variety of information assailed her mind.

She gripped her skull and stumbled backward, and then her knees bumped into something soft and yielding. She fell with a yelp, and her rear end plopped down onto a cushion. Her hands slapped into similarly fluffy armrests. When she looked down, she found herself sitting in a familiar easy-chair, which looked exactly like the one in her living room. "How are you doing this?"

[INCORRECT.] the flavor was one of admonishment.

Taylor was starting to get a headache. "If you're not doing this, then who is? Speaking of which, why can't I see you?" She wasn't convinced that she hadn't gone insane, and talking to empty whitespace wasn't helping.

[PAIRING. ENVISION.]

This confused her at first, but the mental imagery provided her with context. The shard was literally answering her questions. "Pairing? You mean we're a team now?" Then her eyes grew wide. "I have powers now?"

The voice bubbled with amusement. [AFFIRMATIVE.] Taylor's mind skittered to a halt at that response. She had _powers_ now. Those bitches had tormented her so badly for the last year and a half that now she had powers. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she made no sound. [ENVISION?]

She sucked in a breath. "Oh yeah, right. So I have to imagine what you're supposed to look like?"

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

"Wouldn't you prefer to look like yourself instead of having me do it? That seems kind of rude."

[IMMATERIAL. ENVISION?]

Taylor frowned at the 'sky' and it's one track mind. "Well okay, if you insist. Just don't complain if you're going to leave it all up to me." There was no reply, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the first thought that came to mind. When she looked again, a fluffy white ferret with beady blue eyes had appeared, curled in her lap.

The little creature twisted its long neck to look up at her, tiny nostrils flaring and whiskers twitching. It squeaked, but she also heard, [UNUSUAL.] She smiled and stroked the soft fur. She had wanted a ferret as a little girl, but her parents had been against the idea. Ferrets 'stank to high heaven' according to her dad. The little creature didn't seem to have any odor at all, and it shivered at her touch. [ACCEPTABLE.]

Taylor realized that she wasn't freaking out nearly as badly as she probably should be. "So you saved me; how come? And why am I not scared half to death right now?"

The ferret stood and stretched, then wiggled its nose and squeaked at her. [CONFLICT, RESOLUTION. INTERPOSED.] She got the meaning well enough. It had sensed her anguish and had 'paired' with her to solve the problem of being trapped in that disgusting box, and was now shielding her mind from the horror of it all.

"Anything I can imagine will happen and I won't go crazy..."

Maybe it was her imagination, but the ferret silently shook as if it were laughing. [AFFIRMATIVE.]

The revelation gave her pause. "I don't want to hurt anyone on accident," she said firmly. "Well, except maybe if they hurt other people." The ferret looked at her expectantly. "We should make a rule: No killing, hurting, or destroying of any kind without some kind of confirmation."

[UNDERSTANDING. AGREEMENT.] The ferret dipped its head.

"And no accidental or collateral damage, either." The fuzzy head dipped again, and the last two words were repeated. This was by far the most bizarre conversation she was engaged in. In all of her PHO trolling, she'd never heard of any cape talk about – or be heard to talk about – powers being sentient. There weren't even any crazy conspiracies about this sort of thing. "Can you give me a basic description of the powerset? I understand that if I think it, it will happen, but I would like to be a little better-informed." She held up a finger as the ferret rose to respond. "Something I can read, please."

The ferret scrabbled up onto the arm of the chair, and then hopped up onto her shoulder. She jumped, but not because of that, but because a very large, thick book bound in leather dropped into her lap. "Oof!" she barked. "This by you is basic?" The thing was heavy, and she could barely see the outer edges of her thighs. On the cover, in blocky, gilt lettering was the words MENTIFERY INDEX. When she opened it, there was a table of contents, which after a she lifted a few pages, turned out to be exactly fifteen hundred pages long. She craned her neck so she could look at the ferret. "This is going to take a really long time to read." It blinked at her. "It's a school night." It blinked at her again, and she let the pages flap back down. "I'm not going to have enough time."

A tiny cartoon light-bulb appeared over its head as it realized her problem. It scampered down her arm and comically pushed at the pages. "Here, just point when you want me to stop," she giggled and turned one page at a time. Five turns later, the ferret rose up on hind legs and pawed at the air. When she stopped, it flopped onto the book and pointed at a section near the end.

Taylor's eyes bugged out when she read the heading in bold black text. "Space-Time Manipulation!?" she shouted. The ferret cringed, and she took a shaky breath. "Sorry, I just… really? We can mess with _time? _Like stop, start, or go wherever?_" _

[AFFIRMATIVE!] She winced at the syrupy cheer.

She looked down at the page. This was too much power for one person. "What if I break something?" The ferret scooted back onto the armrest and made a grabbing motion. Taylor flipped back to the first two pages, and it started to move back. "Here, hold on a second." She concentrated, and a wooden slanted book stand hung over her legs. She hefted the book onto it, and then nudged the ferret on her lap while she thumbed the pages back to the beginning.

_Bark!_ It pointed near the end of the second page, where she read: Causality Manipulation. And then it stretched up and pointed to a sub-heading labeled Consequence Manipulation. "Okay, so as long as I pay attention to the rules, I shouldn't make mistakes and wreck reality." She thought for a moment. "We got a little off track here. So what you're saying is that we can, what, pause time long enough for me to read all of this?"

_Bark! _She sagged into the back of the chair and stared at the book. This was an awful lot of responsibility for a fifteen-year-old girl. She said as much in a dazed mumble, and the ferret chittered and pointed at the consequence manipulation sub-heading again. "Oh shush. Let me think." The lap ferret sighed and dropped to all fours, then curled into itself. There was no way the Protectorate – never mind the gangs – would leave her alone unless she did her best not to be disruptive. The power of imagination was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

While she considered the implications of her utterly bullshit powers, she noticed something. The different headings and sub-headings were in different colors. She turned through each of the dozen pages, trying to make sense of it, and was about to ask when she caught a legend at the end. Blues and greens were 'unrestricted'. Orange was 'self-limited', and red was 'insufficient energy'. The last one made no sense to her. "What does 'administratively disabled' mean?" she asked. The little furry head lifted and cocked to one side quizzically. "We're not allowed to use them? Are you not the administrator?"

[AFFIRMATIVE. NEGATIVE.]

"Well who's the administrator then?"

[ACCESS DENIED] _Well fuck. _At least _someone_ was being responsible, or as responsible as one could get when handing out reality-bending powers to teenagers and young adults. She scanned the pages for the last category and found several that she was very glad to not have access to. Omni-Telepathy sounded wildly disturbing. Absolute anything was probably a bad idea, and Ultipotence didn't bear thinking about.

"How long have I been… away?" she asked. "In human terms," she hastily added, "show me on a clock, duration in hours and minutes." She pictured a digital timer and one appeared in her left hand, a little black box with a timer that displayed 00:42. "Good, less than an hour, then," she observed. "I'll bet those sorry sons of bitches at the school haven't even noticed." Her tone was dark. Now that she'd had some time to be distracted by all of this, she couldn't believe how- **_NO_**. No, she had _much_ better things to worry about than the mother of all pranks or the largely crap-tastic staff of Winslow High. She set the clock to one side of the book stand and got the page number for what she wanted. "I realize that this is what you call 'basic', like an overview. Is there a more detailed description?"

The ferret barked and sat up to look past her right arm. She turned to follow its gaze and flinched. A library of books like the one in her lap had appeared without a sound. Where before was the whitespace, now there sat row upon row of bookshelves that vanished into the distance. "Jesus Jumping Jiminy Cricket on a cracker, how am I supposed to read all of that?"

The bookshelves rotated and slid noiselessly at a dizzying speed, and then halted within arm's reach. There were dozens of books, but there was also a flat panel of grayish material with the impression of a hand sunk into it. [INTERFACE. OSMOSIS.]

The ferret looked up at her expectantly. "Fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?" Taylor settled her palm and fingers into the indentation.

Her mind exploded.


	2. 1-2 - Genesis

When Taylor came to, it was not groggy or sluggish, as she might have expected. One moment her senses were awash with colors, sounds, and concepts, and the next she was back in the empty space. The ferret sat on her thigh and wiggled its whiskers. "Wow," she said. She didn't have the words to adequately describe how she felt. Knowing exactly how the Continuum worked, it was… _Awesome!_ Being able to understand the whole of time and space was truly mind-boggling. The fact that she could make either or both her bitch was exhilarating.

And that was just _one_ aspect of her powerset. Putting aside the restrictions set upon her by this mysterious Administrator, what she did have access to was so broken that it verged on hilarity. There were so many things to try, and now she had all the time in the world – or rather, the multiverse. She had no idea how she was going to explain any of this to her father, or even whether she should say anything at all. It bore more thought later; right now she had things to do.

Taylor looked at the timer she'd made and saw that nearly nine hours had passed. "Oh, whoops! Let's see about fixing that then." She raised her hand, and waved it at the open book. It vanished and was replaced with a crisp holographic view from the ceiling of the school hallway, aimed down at her locker. Remote viewing was going to come in _very_ handy.

The immediate area was cordoned off with crime scene tape, and people in hazmat suits were gathered around. One took photographs, while two more used shovels to scoop the waste into a large plastic evidence bag being gingerly held open by a fourth person. It was clear that even through the protective clothing, they were uncomfortable.

Taylor tilted her head and the angle rotated to the right. More yellow tape blocked off the entire hallway several yards away, and a BBPD officer stood facing away. The hallway was otherwise empty. "At least someone took this shit seriously, for a change," she scowled. A look in the opposite direction showed a similar scene, but with a female officer. How fucking sad was it that a year and a half had to go by, only to finally have the cops involved. "I guess this could be considered attempted murder. I'm going to need proof to make it stick, though. But first-"

She splayed out the fingers of her left hand and the image froze, as did the timer. She was vaguely aware of a blue glow, but she didn't give it any thought. She bent her wrist to the left fractionally, and the action began to run in reverse. Light fanned back in to the camera, and filth slid back onto the shovels to be scooped back into the locker. The counter on the clock crawled backward; it wasn't winding back fast enough, so she increased the pace. It would have been comical, if the circumstances hadn't been so grim.

Soon enough, she got to the point where the janitor had opened the door. Taylor would have been surprised to see vomit leap back into his mouth, or her unconscious body fall up from his arms, but she had a plan. Here she paused and moved the viewing angle of her suspended in midair several times. There were cuts and bruises on her arms and face. Most of her bare skin was smeared with a mixture of her blood and the gunk. Every detail was committed to memory, which she would be able to perfectly recall.

Then she looked at the timer and swore vehemently enough that her father's coworkers would have blushed. "I was in there for six hours? What. The. Fuck?!" The ferret rubbed its furry little face and dooked mournfully. "I know, it's stupid, but you've seen all the shitty memories." She scritched under its chin and it rolled onto its back.

[PURPOSE?] The meaning was clear enough to Taylor.

"They've been doing all sorts of mean things to me ever since I started high school. I don't know why, but after this? Fuck that, they're going to pay." She rewound time again, and held up her right hand. A portable, high-resolution video camera appeared there, and she grinned evilly. The cartoon light bulb flashed over the ferret's head again, and it rolled from side to side with chittering, helpless laughter.

Up to this point, her only real evidence of the trio's numerous torments had come in the form of hundreds of emails. Even then, these were sent from dummy accounts; to prove their source the usual way would have been extremely difficult. When she'd first made complaints in the beginning, she had been asked for proof. At the time, she'd had none, but after today? She was about to have a fuck _ton_ of it. Not only that, but she had a plan to present it in a way that wouldn't out her as having powers: That was key.

Taylor followed the reverse playback to the point just before she walked into frame, and then she adjusted the view back to the corner of the ceiling opposite. She stood up and arrested the flow so she could start recording with the camera, which she pushed into the display. She veiled it with a twist of thought, so nobody would see. There were many students gathered in a wide circle, centered on her locker. In hindsight, she probably should have known better, but it was too late now. Oh sure, she could manipulate causality, change events to her liking. But she was stuck with the memories no matter what; that much she knew for certain.

She decided to get multiple angles of the event, starting with her own nervous approach. She rolled the time back and forth as needed, pausing the recording between each. She captured everything: Her reaction of horrified disgust as she opened the door, the contents of said locker in all its gory detail, and the oblique angle of Emma and Sophia as they shoved her inside and slammed the door shut.

She chose not to listen to the sound, but instead trusted the camera to get it all. Nobody would see a thing. As a bonus, she got close-up shots of their faces, and Madison got some camera time because she had stood back to record the whole thing on her cell phone. When it was done, the three of them got together and high-fived. The looks on their faces were of unbridled glee, and Taylor felt sick to her stomach at the wanton cruelty.

What had she done to deserve this? Her thoughts turned dark as she watched the trio walk away, laughing. It would be so _easy_ to do many terrible things to them all, things far worse than what she'd just watched. But that would make her no better than them. She turned away and focused on the locker for the entire time she was trapped inside. She kept rolling until well after the janitor had freed her, catatonic and smeared as she was.

When she finally finished with that, she decided to see just how they had managed to put that disgusting trash in there in the first place. It had to have been before the winter break, so she scrolled back to the Friday before Christmas. And sure enough, that Friday evening, Sophia showed up with a garbage bag in each hand.

Sophia was alone, and a quick check showed nobody else in the hallway. She rewound to the moment just before the other girl came around the corner at the far end of the hall and paused it. Then she suspended the camera in mid-air near her shoulder, and she plunged her hands into the hologram. With a mental tug, she spread her arms and drew herself into the hallway.

She stood in front of her locker at Winslow, and the date was December 17th, 2010. She looked back over her shoulder to a pinprick of white that she drifted up to the ceiling, where it would certainly go unnoticed. Taylor then veiled herself in a cloak of invisibility, and she faced the direction that Sophia would come from. She resumed recording and restarted the flow of time. It took her less than a minute to arrive, and Taylor glared at her in seething anger.

Sophia set the two large bags down, and looked around cautiously. Satisfied that nobody was around, she pulled a smaller shopping bag from her pocket and drew out a pair of elbow-length dishwasher gloves. She snapped them on and then pinched her nostrils shut with a clothespin. She bent back down and carefully untied the knots on the two larger bags at arms-length. The tops of each were carefully rolled inside out.

Apparently Sophia had a strong stomach, but not so strong that she didn't gag and make disgusted noises. She picked up the first, and then she _changed;_ where she was solid before, now she was wispy and partially transparent.

Taylor almost dropped the camera in shock, and that surprise quickly turned to fury. She very nearly abandoned her plan for immediate retribution, because now she knew exactly who Sophia was.

Shadow Stalker thrust her arms and their intangible burden through the closed locker door, and she upended the bag. She did it high up, and then withdrew her hands, and the empty bag came along. She repeated the process a second time, all while Taylor fumed in silence. _So that's how they were doing It, _she thought_._ All the things she had found missing, no matter how many times she changed the lock. She was certain that this was how her mother's flute had disappeared.

Sophia gathered up the evidence, and Taylor followed her just long enough to see where she disposed of it. She wound through the hallways toward an exit around back, where the dumpsters were. She threw the empty garbage bags in, and then peeled off the gloves. Those were shoved into the grocery bag, which she tossed in after. "Perfect," Sophia said. "They'll never figure it out." She laughed and went back into the school.

Taylor stood there for several minutes, struggling with the urge to give in to her impulse to vent her wrath upon Sophia – upon Shadow Stalker. There was obviously no way she could show that to Principal Blackwell, not without risking a felony charge. Then she realized what had to be done, so she altered her plan.

She had left the camera pointed at the dumpster, so she levitated the lid, and did the same with the things Sophia had just thrown away. She then brought forth an evidence bag that she remotely liberated from the nearest police station. She doubted that they would miss it, and she dropped the items inside, sealed the bag, and even took the time to mark the chain of fields printed on the bag. When she got to the name, she pondered for a moment, and then she wrote. All of this was done on camera, and when it was done, she paused the recording.

After that, Taylor teleported back to the SDZ with an air of satisfaction and anticipation. There was a lot of work ahead before she could go back to where she was expected to be. She didn't look forward to going back into the locker, but it had to be done. She sat down in the recliner, and the ferret sat up from where it had lain since she came back from her 'study' session.

[ADVANCEMENT?] it queried.

"Yes," she said with conviction, "we shall." A small portal opened to her left, and she pushed her hand into it briefly. She came back with a stack of papers from her closet. Every single thing that had been done to her since September of the year before had been written down in detail. She had included dates and times, and mixed in were the awful emails. Between them and her notes, there were almost three hundred and fifty pages.

Taylor was glad that she'd done it now, and she set about the laborious task of backing every last thing up with video evidence. Thank goodness time wasn't a factor. She opted to do everything through the viewing window, if only because she wanted to minimize any further temptation to act brashly. This way was better, and it was going to be _epic_.

The whole process took the better part of two days, during which time she did not sleep – it wasn't necessary anymore. Taylor managed to observe everything dispassionately. That is, right up until her mother's flute was stolen, and then smashed and broken.

* * *

Alarms pinged across the Endbringer detection system that Dragon monitored. There was a flood of panic as she brought the subroutine into focus. _No! It's too soon for another attack!_ The next event wasn't supposed to occur for at least another seven weeks. The targeting system tracked each one as best as it was able.

Leviathan was out in the middle of the North Atlantic; Behemoth was harder to track, but there was no unusual seismic activity – which wasn't surprising. Their best guess was that when it wasn't active, it stayed near the Earth's core. The Simurgh typically held a geosynchronous orbit in the fifty degrees north range.

Both of the Endbringers that _could_ be seen had drastically changed position. Dragon held ready to send the signal to the North America warning system and observed. It was possible that there wasn't actually an attack – they had relocated in the past with no further action. It was rare, and the consensus (after the first two times, anyway) was to hold off if the general pattern wasn't being followed. It wasn't worth the panic that inevitably came from sirens blaring across most of the continent.

Three minutes ticked by very slowly. If Dragon could hold her breath, she would have. Leviathan shot away from its location to a point between South Africa and Antarctica at several hundred knots per hour. At the exact same moment, Ziz went from fifty degrees north near Winnipeg to empty skies over the South Pacific.

After they finished moving, they both returned to their usual inactive state. Dragon actively observed them for any other changes for the next hour. While she was doing that, she ran the long range observation recordings on Ziz back to several minutes before the pair had changed position. The video revealed something that startled her. Normally when she wasn't active, The Simurgh would remain cocooned inside her wings.

Seven minutes and thirty eight seconds prior to her relocating, wings parted enough to reveal her face, and it was focused on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. It was difficult to tell where exactly, but as she orbited, her body turned so that she could keep whatever she was looking at in sight.

Moments before she darted away, she recoiled, and her jaw dropped open. Facial expressions were impossible to make out, but clearly she didn't like what she saw. Wings slammed closed and she vanished in a blur. If Dragon didn't know any better, she would have sworn that Ziz had seen something and reacted in _fear_.

Dragon dove into broadcast and internet data streams during the time index, searching for clues as to what could possibly have generated such a reaction. She found nothing obvious, but she kept looking. At the same time, she opened a communications line to the New York Protectorate.

* * *

Taylor had screamed herself raw and now sat, dazed and shaking. Her chest heaved and sweat rolled down to mingle with her tears. _How. Could. THEY? _"What the fuck is wrong with those bitches?" she growled.

The ferret had weathered the storm with relative calm. [ANNIHILATE?] Taylor sagged, too spent to respond. She and Emma had both been cape geeks from a very young age. She wistfully recalled many a sleepover where they had talked about being heroes if they ever triggered. They had even acted out silly little scenes, taking turns playing the hero and the villain. Now she had them, and Emma didn't – that hadn't stopped her from latching on to a so-called hero.

Eventually she shook her head and scrubbed her face with the cuff of her sleeve. "No, we can't. It would make us no better than them, worse, even." She sighed. "Besides, it's not like we can't fix it later." Maybe it was her imagination, but the ferret seemed almost disappointed at her reply, but it did nod.

[VINDICATION?]

Taylor clenched her fists. "Hell. Yes." She got back to work. While she directed time, she absently considered her next steps once this was finished. She was more or less decided on how to deal with the Protectorate half of the problem, but that would come later.

She dialed back the passive invulnerability and began intentionally re-inflicting the wounds she had observed upon herself. It wasn't fun, but she imagined it being painless, and that was that. It just looked awful, and that was even before she put that crap back on her skin and clothes. _That,_ she decided, would wait until the last possible moment. She stalled as long as she could, taking the time to go back through the time before she started her bully log.

At last there was nothing else to do, and she looked at the ferret sadly. "Okay, I'm not going to put you through this, so have a nap or something. I'll be back later, alright?"

It sighed and cuddled up against her hand. [CONFIRMATION?]

She closed her eyes and patted the little critter gently. "I don't _want_ to, but this is probably the best way to go about it. I don't want anyone knowing about us just yet, or ever. Not if I can help it." She stood up and set it down on the chair behind her, gave it another pat, and straightened up again reluctantly. "See you soon." It was time to enact the plan.

Taylor turned and splintered her personal timeline into six separate streams.


	3. 1-3 - Genesis

**December 25, 2010 - Camp Pennacook  
Taylor 1**

Taylor appeared inside a familiar cabin and looked around with a sad sigh. The bunk beds' mattresses were all rolled up and secured with thin ropes, and there was a vague scent of pine cleaner. No one had been here in months, and wouldn't be for several more.

The last time she had been here was one of the few pleasant times she could remember after her mother had died. She remembered it well, and had even yearned for it after everything had gone to shit again. Her father had suggested it as a chance to get away for a while, to help take her mind off of things. She had resisted at first, not wanting to leave him alone, but he had promised her that he would be fine on his own for three weeks. And it had done them both a little good, or so she'd thought at the time.

Taylor had picked this time and place in part because of the happier memories, but also because it was the one place that she absolutely knew for certain that she wouldn't be discovered. Her objective here was to design a cape persona that she would present to the world. She first summoned a tall mirror so that she could observe the costume design while she worked.

At first, she toyed with existing known designs. It amused her to dress up as Alexandria, like she had done for Halloween years ago. She grinned at the gray and black bodysuit with its minimalist armor panels and imposing helmet. She flared out the heavy cape, but she just didn't have the figure that her childhood hero did. She _could_ have it, but that just seemed a little too strange, relatively speaking anyway.

She dismissed it and tried out a few others with some minor changes, and none of them seemed right either. After playing for half an hour, she gave up her fun and focused on making something purely her own. When Taylor had first started to think about the look she wanted, armor had briefly crossed her mind. With her invulnerability, it wasn't something she needed, but it would give her an opportunity to appear older.

She conjured a breastplate and give it some slightly more generous curves than she needed. It started as a single shaped piece of silvery metal, but then she tried making segmented armor panels. It didn't look right, so she went back to the plain metal, and then tried adding accents and ornamentation in gold. Swirling vines made bands that formed a vee at the center that swept up to the middle of each collar-bone. From there it curved to follow them out to the joints of her shoulders, where they angled sharply down along her ribcage and abdomen. They flared outward slightly at her hips, and then formed a gentler vee shape across her pelvis.

It wasn't a bad look, but it still seemed off. She tried adding filigree, but after three attempts she abandoned the idea of further embellishment and changed the sculpted midsection for a series of overlapping plates. Taylor wasn't satisfied with this either, and then she changed the plates to scales and was much more satisfied.

That settled, she tried similar armoring of her legs and promptly gave it up as too silly. The breastplate wasn't a bad look, but even her baggy jeans wouldn't work. She tried a few types of capes, and this helped to make it look more imposing.

This was going to take a while. Fortunately for her, she had as much of it as she wanted now.

* * *

**November 26, 2010 - Brockton Bay  
Über and Leet**

_ZAP! _"Ow! Sonofabitch!" Leet threw down the wrench in frustration and blew on his shocked fingers. He shook his tingling hand and glared at the bundle of wires that protruded from a flat metal box. "Dammit, why isn't this working?" he grumbled. Getting the voltages right was important for this project, because he really didn't want it to blow up in his face. Again.

The door to his workshop slid aside and Über poked his head in. "You alright, buddy?" Leet growled but nodded. "Man, that's the tenth time in an hour. Why don't you give it a rest and come help me own some fools, huh?"

Leet scowled at his workbench again and then threw his hands in the air. "Yeah, why not? Gimme a minute to check my emails." Über turned away with a shake of his head while Leet went over to the laptop and opened the mail app. "Junk, junk, ooh! Fan-mail!" He scanned the message and smirked at the Monty Python meme, and then he moved on. "More junk – damn, I need to redo the filters on this shit again."

He cycled through the spam and marked it as such, and then came to a stop. "Th' fuck?" he double-clicked on the email. He read the message twice, and then, bemused, walked out to the living-room area. "Hey, shove over a sec, will ya?" he said to his partner, who sat on the near end of the couch.

Über glanced up at him in confusion. "What's wrong with- oh _come on!"_ he shouted at the flatscreen as his character was subjected to a lethal ball of plasma. "What for, man?"

Leet mad a shooing motion. "I just got the weirdest fucking email, man. Scoot!" Über quirked an eyebrow and slid over to the middle. Once his friend was out of the way, he bent over and lifted up the cushion. "Okay, what the fuck." There was a small, flat cardboard box sitting there. He picked it up and squinted at Über. "Man, are you screwing with me or something?"

Über, without looking, he said, "No more than usual, why?" When Leet didn't answer, he finally glanced. "What's that?" Leet frowned and then opened the little box and shook out its contents. When he saw what it was, he choked on air. "What?" Leet held it out, and Über cursed as he died in game again. He took the thing and looked at it. "Okay, so what's the big deal? It probably fell out of your pocket or something."

Leet gave him a flat look. "That's an ounce of Rhodium." When there was no recognition, he deadpanned, "You're holding nearly six g's."

Über jerked back and then looked at it again. "This little thing is worth six large?" Leet nodded mutely. "Okay, what's this email you were talking about?" Leet went back to his workshop and grabbed his laptop, and brought it back. Über carefully set the sealed card of precious metal on the coffee table and took the laptop.

**From:** Unknown encrypted-user  
**Sent:** 11/29/2010

**Subject:** Interested in trading?

"Wait, hold on – is this some sort of trick? How the hell does this message get sent three days from now?" Leet just jabbed his finger at the screen.

**Body: **Hey, wanna score some refined materials for your builds cheap? I'll cut you a good deal if you're willing to meet wherever with some cash. Just to show you I'm serious, go have a look under Über's seat – and tell him that he'd be better off using the Flak cannon to take out the plasma camper.

~Quinn

Über nervously looked around the room. "What the fuck is going on? Are we bugged?"

Leet shook his head, but couldn't help but glance around himself. "Dude, that message came in six hours ago."

Über's jaw dropped open. "No. No, no, no fucking way, man. Are we getting punked?"

"I don't…" Leet reached down and clicked off the message. "There's another one that came a few minutes after the first one." He opened it and sank down so he could read the message.

**From:** Unknown encrypted-user  
**Sent:** 12/02/2010

**Subject:** RE: Interested in trading?

**Body: **You're not being punked. Well, not really, and don't worry, I'm not going to out you guys or anything. I'm new-ish, and kind of a fan, but I need a little cash. If you're down for it, we can meet up somewhere soon. I don't have much, but I don't need it and I'll sell at 1/10th the price. Let me know!

~Quinn

"Uh…" Über said.

Leet picked up the sealed card and looked at it. "I.. I think I'm freaking out. Either we're getting jerked around by Dragon – because who else could pull this sort of thing off? Or…" he trailed off, mind awhirl. The metal was vacuum sealed in an assayer's card, and proclaimed .999 purity. "This is some of the best shit for making electrical contacts, man. It's _heavily_ regulated – so much so that I usually just use copper or silver, or even tungsten if I can find it."

Über stared at the message. "Do you think it's worth-"

"Yes," Leet said without hesitation. "I might finally be able to fix the Mjolnir. We can scope it out, make sure it's not a trap." He gripped the card a little tighter. "_And_ we can possibly meet our first actual time-traveler." He jumped up and started to run back to the workshop. Then he wheeled around and held out his hand.

Über snickered and handed it back to him. "Geez, you're not even going to ask, are you?" Leet gave him a pleading look. "Alright, man. Give. You're no good at setting up meets." The laptop was thrust back at him, and he nearly dropped it as Leet rushed off to do his Tinker thing. Über rolled his eyes and settled down to make a reply. Idly, he wondered if his message would be delivered now or in a week. It was just one of the things he planned to ask when they met this mysterious 'Quinn'.

* * *

**January 3 - Protectorate ENE HQ  
Armsmaster**

Colin was bent over his workstation, a free-standing magnifier hovered over his disassembled halbard. He had just finished the final touches of fine soldering when his wireless rang. He gave it a frustrated tap with his knuckle and put it on speaker. "Go for Armsmaster."

The voice on the other end of the call was heavily modulated. "Good morning, Armsmaster, my name is Quintessence. Is this a good time to speak?"

Colin frowned, but realized that it could be important. "One moment, please." He sat up straight and cleaned the soldering iron off with the damp sponge, and then put it back in the coil. "I don't believe that I'm familiar with anyone going by your name, Quintessence. What is this call in regards to?"

The voice, which sounded like a mixture of male and female had a strange echo to it – probably due to bad reception. "I'm afraid that there's no easy way to say this, but I have evidence of criminal activity undertaken by one of your Wards."

Colin's skin flushed and he began a search for this Quintessence via his helmet. "That's a very serious allegation. You say you have evidence, what crime and which Ward are you talking about?" He had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer. The answer still took him by surprise.

"Sophia Hess." He looked sharply at his phone. "As for her crimes, they are numerous and very carefully documented with video and audio."

An unpleasant sensation slithered through his insides. "If this is an attempt at blackmail-"

Quintessence cut in before he could finish the sentence. "I assure you, sir, this is nothing of the sort. Check the BBPD blotter for a call that went out two hours ago."

He did so, and found four items, two robberies, a mugging, and an unspecified EMS call to Winslow High. Of course, he couldn't just confirm Shadow Stalker's civilian identity – this could be a fishing expedition. "I'm afraid there are a few incidents. Can you be more specific?"

"Winslow High." This time he scowled, but before he could pursue that line of thought, Quintessence continued. "I know that your first instinct is to go there, but I would ask that you not do that until you've had a chance to review my evidence. Would it be possible to meet at the PRT building on the mainland?" There was a brief pause. "Or would you prefer to examine the victim at Brockton Bay General first?"

Colin debated only for a moment. "Is the victim stable?" At this point, he was just as concerned for the student as he was for the mountain of trouble that Shadow Stalker had potentially – allegedly – heaped on his branch. He had hoped that by bringing her into the Wards program, she would learn to moderate her use of force. Reports from Aegis had not been encouraging on that front.

"Stable-ish. It's pretty bad."

"Very well, Quintessence, I will meet you in seven minutes. Armsmaster, out." He disconnected the call and dialed another number. He stood up, took down one of his backup halberds from the rack and locked it to his back.

The phone rang twice, and he scooped it up as he strode out of his lab. He transferred the call to his helmet just before the line picked up. "Renick speaking," the man said. "How can I help you, Armsmaster?"

Colin made his way to the elevator. "Deputy Director, there appears to have been an incident at Winslow High. I've been asked to meet with an unknown individual referring to themselves as Quintessence at the mainland HQ." He punched the button for the motor pool and continued to explain. "This person claims to have evidence of crimes committed by Sophia Hess."

The deputy director was silent for almost a full minute. "I take it that this Quintessence has inferred that they think Miss Hess is a Ward." Colin nodded but did not interrupt. "This is disturbing news. What do you need?"

Colin nodded again as he stepped out of the elevator and strode toward his motorcycle. "Sir, I have no details about the incident at the school beyond a call for emergency services. Can you find out what's happened?"

Renick was firm in his response. "I'm on it," he said, and then he hung up. Colin started his bike and revved up the engine, and then he accelerated out onto the hard light bridge at full throttle.


	4. 1-4 - Genesis

**January 3 – Arcadia High  
Amy**

Geometry was one of Amy's least favorite classes. It wasn't the teacher, Miss Pritchard, who was a pleasant enough person, as educators went. It also was not because math wasn't Amy's best subject – she managed a B+ average, which was good enough for her. No, it was the fact that the class was the second-last of the day, which hovered in that nebulous almost-but-not-quite sense of freedom. It was hard not to look at the clock as it ticked away. Pencils scribbled, and murmured conversations were peppered across the scattered desks.

_Tick..tick…tick…_

It was enough to drive her up the walls. The last class of the day was a study hall, and she left school then as often as not. The speaker on the far wall whined to life, and the students all hushed up. _"Amy Dallon, Victoria Dallon, please report to the principal's office."_ Amy was already out of her seat and moving before the announcement had finished.

These callouts weren't uncommon, and usually signaled a medical emergency of some sort. The Brockton Bay General administrators were adamant that, in spite of Carol's objections to the contrary, they would only interrupt school hours over the most serious of cases. She paused at Miss Pritchard's desk just long enough to take a blue folder that the middle-aged woman passed to her, which she gave thanks for and slid into her backpack.

As Amy jogged through the hallways, she wondered what it would be this time. Had a member of the Protectorate been injured? Ultimately she gave up the guessing game. People were always getting hurt, and she would inevitably be there to fix them up. Of course, almost everyone was filled with gratitude, but between the workload and the happiness and the tears of joy, it all bled together.

_Heh._

By the time she reached the office, Vicky was already there – _shocker, that –_ and Vice Principal Powell stood with her. "BBG?" she asked.

The woman, who had grown accustomed to these sporadic interruptions with aplomb. "Yes, Amy, an urgent case: They were tight-lipped about the details." Amy nodded her understanding. HIPAA laws being what they were, that was often the case. However, they did make an exception for Protectorate members, so it wasn't likely this time. "Victoria, I understand you might need to stay and miss your last class, but please do try to come back if you can." Miss Howell was all-too aware that Amy opted to stay once called upon. Amy couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that she'd been automatically left out.

Vicky sighed dramatically, "Yes, Miss Howell." Her act was met with tilted head and shaking finger, and Amy snorted as the sisters started toward the front exit. "C'mon, Ames. It looks like they don't want us taking the scenic route."

Amy rolled her eyes. "It's _always_ the scenic route when we're flying. At least you're wearing jeans today." They made their way through the double doors and out into the cool afternoon air.

"Pfft. I had a feeling today was going to be a no-dress day," Vicky quipped. She sent a text message while she waited for Amy to pull her robe out and put it on. Once she was clad in costume, Vicky swung her up into a bridal carry and lifted up into the sky. For Amy, this was the best part of their emergency get-out-of-school cards. It also made her feel guilty as she tried very hard not to think about- _No!_

"So what do you think it is?" Vicky shouted over the rush of wind.

Amy shrugged as much as she could in that position. "I have no idea!"

"Tell me later?"

Amy growled. "Absolutely not! I don't see what you'd want to know about it for anyway!"

Vicky was silent for a moment. "You might have a point!"

_Of course I do, nosy brat._ She didn't say it aloud, but the scowl on her face did nothing to erase the grin from Vicky's face. It was a ritual they shared, and for all of her glowering, Amy wouldn't give it up for the world.

The city flowed by underneath, and a few minutes later, Vicky set her down on the hospital's heli-pad, where Nurse Willis waited. "You want me to stick around, Ames?" Vicky's look was hopeful, and Amy debated asking her to wait for a change.

She quickly discarded the idea. "Nah, I'll just do my usual rounds after." Vicky deflated. "If it's not too busy, I'll call you once class lets out. Unless you decide to take advantage, that is…?"

Vicky put on a shocked expression and placed the fingertips of her hand on her chest. "Moi? Would I do such a thing?" she asked innocently.

Amy put her hands on her hips. "Yes, you absolutely would play hookey to window-shop."

She turned to go even as Vicky tilted her head back and daintily laid the back of her wrist upon her forehead. "The Panacea, how she wounds me with her barbed tongue! Oh, the irony!" Amy gave her the finger while she walked towards the waiting nurse. Vicky laughed and flew away. _In the opposite direction of the school, surprise, surprise _she thought.

"Hello, Penny," she addressed the slender woman. "What do we have?"

The woman led her inside as she began to describe the teenage girl's condition. "Sepsis caused by multiple infections after prolonged exposure to toxic waste is all we've been able to observe." Something in Penny's voice made Amy look at her. She was a little green around the gills, but her lips were set in a hard line. "She's been through some sort of trauma, and won't let any of us near her."

Amy frowned and said nothing, wondering how they got her to the hospital in the first place. They took the elevator down to the fifth floor ICU. Penny, as if sensing her thoughts, explained. "She was catatonic when the paramedics first brought her in, but she went wild when we tried to run an IV." She shook her head. "I don't know what happened to her, but the police want to catalogue her injuries and take her clothing for evidence."

The elevator dinged and the doors parted. As soon as they stepped into the ICU lobby, there was a tremendous, muffled crash mixed with high-pitched shrieking. "We don't want to put you in harm's way-" Amy cut her off with a chop of her hand. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd had to subdue a violent patient; all she had to do was lay a finger on the girl to get the situation under control. She'd taken her fair share of bumps and bruises, too.

They followed the ruckus, and the shouting slowly became more distinct. "What's her name?"

"Taylor Hebert." They turned a corner and found a pair of officers pleading through an open doorway. One of them said something in a calm, soothing voice, and he dodged out of the way as a screeched 'fuck you!' was followed by a trash can that came flying out.. "You should prepare yourself, Panacea," Penny said.

She crept forward, and the nearest officer held out her hand. Amy waved her off, and the woman backed away with a muttered 'your funeral'. She leaned sideways just enough for her head to clear the open doorway. Taylor stood in the middle of the thoroughly trashed room, and she looked horrific. She was liberally smeared with a dark ichor that Amy could smell from where she stood.

Panacea had been to several Endbringer fights, as well as having dealt with the aftermath of a plethora of cape fights. She had seen the worst that the human/parahuman condition had to offer, and though she was appalled, she took almost all of it in stride. Everything except the girl's eyes, which had a wide, feral look. She clutched a tray in both hands, and her shoulders heaved as she breathed heavily.

_Oh boy._

Amy took in the mess: Taylor had managed to scatter the various contents of the room, and had pushed the bed haphazardly across the other side of the doorway. "Wow," she said. "What happened here?"

At first it seemed like she wasn't going to get a response, and then the girl growled. "They tried to fucking stick me."

Amy nodded sympathetically. "Do you recognize me?" she asked. Taylor jerked her head up and down. "Then you know I don't do needles, right?" Nod. "Can I come in? I can make you all better if you let me." Nod. She started to push at the rail of the bed.

"Just you."

Amy agreed. "I can work with that." She spoke over her shoulder without taking her eyes off the girl. "Wait out here," she murmured. She shoved at the bed rail until it moved enough for her to squeeze inside. She cautiously edged around the bed until she stood a few feet away from the girl, who turned to follow her. She pointed at the tray, "You think I could talk you into putting that down so I can have a look at you?"

Taylor flinched and shrank back. "Wasn't part of the plan. Too much time, too many me's." She sank down to her knees and the tray clattered to the floor. She gripped her skull in between her hands and stared at the floor, muttering under her breath.

Amy paced forward and crouched down and reached out a hand. "What plan is that, Taylor?" She asked, soothingly. The girl continued to mutter and stare sightlessly at the floor. "I'd like to have you take a nap for a little bit, would that be okay?"

"Won't work, can't sleep 'nymore. Too many things to do."

Amy frowned. "Taylor, look at me." The girl looked up, defeated and teary-eyed. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. The grown-ups need to look you over, though, and see about getting you out of those dirty clothes." She whimpered. "But first I can at least try to slow things down a bit. Will you let me do that for you?"

She hesitated, and then reached out a hand. Amy took it and very nearly recoiled as her power was flooded with every last detail of the poor thing's current state. Years of experience would have been enough to prevent such a reaction. The cause, however, was not Taylor's physical condition, but her brain. Her corona pollentia blazed like none Amy had ever seen before. She arrested the various infections and kept them from spreading, then worked to eliminate them entirely. She also tried to put the girl to sleep, but failed to do so. _Must be part of her power. Blah, that's going to suck._

"Don't tell 'nybody?" The tone was pleading, and Amy felt a pang of sadness. Whatever had made Taylor trigger had been awful.

She nodded minutely and said, "Come on, let's get you onto the bed, okay?"

She crept forward to get an arm under the thin girl's shoulders. "You'll get all dirty," Taylor moaned.

Amy puffed out a breath. "Don't worry, it happens a lot." She helped Taylor to stand up and walked her over to the bed, and the girl clambered on with her help. The officers watched and kept their hands in plain sight. Amy wrestled the bed away from the door, and when one of them offered to help, she shook her head and asked for one of the nurses. Less than a minute later, they had the bed more or less back where it belonged.

While the nurse began to cut away Taylor's clothing, Amy went to the door and invited the female officer to come in to do whatever it was she needed to, and then closed the door for some privacy. She cataloged the injuries while the cop took notes, and they weren't exhaustive, but they did add up. Once that was done, the soiled clothing was placed into a bulky evidence bag, and she set about healing all of Taylor's injuries and cleaning all traces of the sludge that was left behind.

* * *

**January 3, Brockton Bay General  
Taylor Prime**

It was too much. Taylor had been a little too ambitious. Splitting herself six ways at once had overtaxed her mind. At first she thought – no, she _knew_ – that she could do it. And maybe that was true, right up until she put herself back in the locker. Then it had all started to come apart. She had tried to maintain all of her timelines, but panic had set in as soon as the darkness folded around her in its suffocating embrace.

She dropped half of them, struggling to keep the ones with Armsmaster, the summer camp, and her dealings with Über and Leet. The power of imagination might be bullshit, but apparently there were still limits. A part of her considered that maybe she was just a little bit unhinged to begin with, but The Plan had already been formed, and she wanted to finish what she had started. To hell with those bitches. They thought she was weak, that she wasn't worth the air she breathed.

Even though she was only trapped for eight minutes, it had felt like an eternity. When she had fallen out, she'd been so overwhelmed that she could only lay there as events unfolded around her. Her concentration was divided four ways, and she desperately needed them all. She'd come back to her 'senses' just as the nurse tried to put a needle in her arm. The Plan fed her details from her other selves, and she acted accordingly. In truth, it wasn't so much an act, as she was genuinely freaked out. It wasn't all that hard to convince the staff and police that she was a bit out of her mind.

_Ha._

Panacea had shown up right on cue, and Taylor had done what was necessary to advance her plan. She had been a little surprised when the girl had tried to put her to sleep. She had failed because Taylor didn't need to sleep, and wasn't sure if she even could anymore. She endured the indignity of having her favorite pair of jeans and her t-shirt cut off. The examination hadn't taken nearly as long as she had thought – what amounted to a host of minor cuts and scrapes, as well as the infections that she'd allowed to run rampant through her body. Once Panacea had healed her, she watched and waited.

The Plan, after all, required a certain amount of patience – for now.

* * *

**November 27, 2010 – Captain's Hill  
Über and Leet**

A chilly breeze whipped dead leaves rattling through the air and Leet tugged on the collar of his jacket. "Man, I wish we could have met up somewhere else." It was supposed to rain soon, but the covered lunch-table area would do little to shield them from it. "This is bogus, we should have picked a different place," he grumbled. They sat facing away from the park table.

Über adjusted his balaclava and scanned the park. "We can go grab a burger at Fugly Bob's, after." There weren't many people around, mostly kids and a few parents on the playground several dozen yards away. He checked his watch, almost half past two. Leet had scouted the park with the snitch for a good hour leading up to the meeting. If there were police or PRT troopers waiting to ambush them, they were better at hiding than they usually were.

This Quinn had been on the level, at least as far as they could tell. They sat and chatted while they waited, and Über checked his watch again. It was a minute to go, and he looked around to see if he could spot anyone approaching. He was so intent that it took him a moment to realize that something strange was happening.

Windblown leaves had frozen in mid-air, as had a kid on a swing. It had also gone completely silent. "Uh, dude?" He tried to interrupt Leet, who was talking about an idea for some sort of portal device. "Dude." He elbowed the guy and pointed at the bizarre scene in the distance.

"and I was thinking that we could buuuhhh…" Leet ground to speechlessness and leaned forward. He squinted his eyes, and then he looked at Über. "What the fuck is going on?" he hissed.

"_Hello._" A voice drawled from behind. Leet tensed, and Über grew still. That voice actually sounded like several, and there was a weird echo to it. They slowly turned around at the same time. "_Have you come to bargain?"_ The figure that stood before them was not what either had expected…

* * *

**January 3, PRT ENE HQ  
Armsmaster**

Colin had raced over the bridge connecting the Rig to the mainland, and the Deputy Director had called back even before he had made landfall. The situation sounded quite serious, revolving around a fifteen year old girl named Taylor Hebert. She was the victim of a vile prank, and it didn't bode well for the Protectorate ENE.

The girl's condition, while not grim, had warranted a call to Panacea, which relieved him marginally. The physical damage, at least, would be of no concern. The potential psychological damage, however, was an entirely different matter. The deputy director had been discreet, but had reserved the right to claim jurisdiction. If Quintessence had incontrovertible proof of Shadow Stalker's involvement, that could be very bad indeed. Hopefully her attempt to reach out to them first was a good sign.

He turned into the parking garage for the PRT building and made his way down the ramp to secure parking. After he shut off the engine, he dismounted and strode toward the elevator, where Miss Militia held the door. Once he stepped inside, she pressed a button, and the doors slipped closed. "Colin, what's going on? Renick didn't have time to do more than tell me to meet you and then go to the conference room on seven." She paused for a moment. "He seemed quite upset."

Colin pressed his lips together. He relayed the conversation he'd had with Quintessence, and then the subsequent calls he had taken from the deputy director. "I haven't been able to turn up any information on the name, and my trace program hasn't come back with hits on the phone that was used to make the call."

Hannah's head dipped down, and her voice was regretful. "That's awful, if it's true. How do you intend to proceed?"

He pursed his lips. "I don't want to speculate without seeing the proof being offered." She nodded. "The fact that this Quintessence came to us first suggests that they might be favorably disposed toward the Protectorate." That was his hope, at any rate.

Hannah, of course, played the devil's advocate. "_Or_ they could simply be doing so to avoid violating the Herman Act." Which was also possible, even if the cape's motives were unclear; revealing a Protectorate cape's identity was a felony, punishable by up to ten years. "I guess we'll find out soon enough." The elevator chimed, and the doors parted. "She arrived a few minutes before you did, and was escorted up here."

They walked down the hallway. "Is there any sense of her temperament?" he asked. She shook her head. "So, not howling for blood, at least."

She exhaled enough to make her scarf puff out. "There is that, I suppose." They came to the double-doors of the conference room, which had a trooper stationed on each side. They came to attention and opened the doors.

They stepped into the conference room, which held a long table and several heavy chairs intended for people such as Colin. The far side of the table faced a large pane of glass, a view that looked out over the downtown district. A tall, cloaked person stood looking outward. The cloak seemed to drink in the light, and had several multi-hued pinpoints of light scattered across it. Five spherical shapes stretched across the waistline as a sort of belt, which glowed with a smoky light. Colin attempted to scan them, and got nothing, as if they weren't there. The doors clicked shut behind them.

Without turning, a layered voice with a delayed echo said, "I always wondered what the view from here would be like. I must say, it doesn't disappoint." The cape turned to face them, and it was startling. For one thing, the lights on the cloak remained stationary – the effect was disorienting. Though he got nothing when he scanned it as well, it was clearly sophisticated enough that it had to be custom.

The woman wore a breastplate, also of high quality. The upper half was a decorative, silvery metal that was decorated with vines, which crawled and twisted. The lower half, as well as the neck and other exposed areas not covered by the solid piece were overlapping scales of the same shiny metal – all of which gleamed to the point that it gave off an almost spectral glow. The mask she wore was partially shrouded by the hood, and was a single convex mirror that melded seamlessly with the scales that hugged her jawline. The belt of objects made nine in total. He zoomed in and was able to make out a spiral design of some sort contained in each.

She dipped her head in deference. "Miss Militia, Armsmaster, it's a pleasure to meet you." She slid forward and stopped next to a seat, but did not sit. "I only wish that it were under better circumstances." She pulled the chair out and waved a gloved hand at the opposite side of the table. "I believe the director will be along, shortly."

She sat, and Colin followed suit, as did his second. "I don't believe we have heard of you before now, Quintessence. Have you been active long?" Hannah asked. Colin was satisfied to let her take the lead, as she was better at the social engineering of new capes.

Quintessence hummed and tilted her head. "I suppose you might see it that way, from your perspective." A curious statement, though it could simply mean that she had been discreet, or had opted not to debut at all until now. "I would rather not say, if you don't mind."

Colin resisted the urge to jump right in. "That is a curious name you've chosen for your cape identity," he mused. "Would it be the contemporary meaning of the word, or is it classical in nature?"

She spread both hands apart in a conciliatory gesture. "I see that someone has an appreciation for medieval history." It was difficult to read tone from the many-as-one voice, but he sensed a hint of amusement. "Also, Aether was taken."

Hannah started to speak, and the door opened to admit Director Piggot. They all started to rise, and she waved a hand. "Please, don't get up on my account." She took a seat between the two of them. She laid out an audio recorder and activated it. "This is Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT ENE, with Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and one Quintessence, dated January 3rd, 2011. Now, Quintessence, I understand you have so-called evidence to show us?"

One hand dipped below the edge of the table and pulled at something. "Straight to business, is it? I can do that." Colin tensed, and did not relax when her hand came up with one of the objects held on her waist. She held it up for them to examine. "No need to be alarmed; this is a holographic projector." She released it, and it remained suspended in the air. "When I'm done showing you the most important items, I will leave you a copy, along with all the other footage I've captured – of which there is quite a lot."

The director grimaced, and Colin was only slightly better at concealing his own dismay. "How much is 'quite a lot', if I may ask?" Emily Piggot sounded less than pleased. Colin braced himself for the answer.

Quintessence steepled her fingers and leaned forward. "This is the sum total of a protracted bullying campaign, carried out against Taylor Hebert during the entirety of her attendance at Winslow High School." She paused again, and three stacks of papers dropped onto the table, one in front of each of them. "She has been a student there since August of 2009. The sum total of footage, along with supporting evidence, is thirty six hours and forty-seven minutes."

Colin felt a pit form in his stomach as he fingered the _very_ thick stack, and Director Piggot and Miss Militia gingerly pulled their copies closer. "Before I begin, I want two things to be crystal clear. I have Sophia dead to rights, along with her civilian co-conspirators – I expect this to be taken seriously."

The director growled. "I don't know who you think you are, to come in here and dictate terms-"

Quintessence held up the index finger of her right hand, and the voices grew deadly quiet. "Would you prefer I take this to Los Angeles? I can do that, right here, right now." She pointed to the end of the table. When the rest of them turned to look, the space at the end of the table warped, and the scene changed to a view of Chief Director Costa-Brown's office.

The woman sat at her desk, typing rapidly on a keyboard, oblivious to any sort of intrusion. "Or, if you prefer, I can omit the details of Sophia's cape identity and use the remaining material for an expose." The warped bubble twisted in on itself, and the image was replaced with a news stage. Again, there were people within that view, all working and none the wiser that they were being spied upon. The bubble shrank and disappeared into a pinpoint of light that winked out.

The pit in Colin's stomach had yawned into a wide chasm, and not only at the threats that Quintessence had just leveled at them. If she could open a portal into one of the most secure facilities in the country, on the opposite side of the continent, she was quite powerful. "I came to you _first_, as a courtesy, with the hope that you would do the right thing. If you are unwilling to review this information in good faith, you leave me little recourse. Choose."

The silence was deafening until Director Piggot spoke again, coldly. "I do not believe that will be necessary. I can assure you that if your evidence is as strong as you claim, we will indeed take action." Quintessence accepted that statement by lacing her fingers together. "You said that there were two things you wanted understood. What is the second?"

The mirror mask rose and fell twice. "The civilian co-conspirators will be mine to deal with, within the limits of the law. This egregious behavior will continue over my dead body. Sophia's cape identity will not be exposed, but her _friends_ will not evade justice."

Emily's response was immediate. "So long as you obey the law, civilian justice is well outside the purview of the PRT." She turned the first page of her stack of papers. "Where would you like to begin?"

Quintessence leaned back into her chair and pointed her finger at the sphere that hung over the table. A free-floating screen was projected into the air above it where they could all easily see it. "Please turn to page eight. This first video is from earlier today, at Winslow High." A hallway filled with teenagers flickered into view, and the camera was focused on a dark-haired, bespectacled young woman. "This is Taylor Hebert." Colin steeled himself, and flipped to the indicated page. He fervently hoped that Quintessence did not intend for them to review the entire body of evidence.


	5. 1-5 - Genesis

**November 27, 2010 – Captain's Hill  
Taylor 2/Quintessence 1**

Taylor frowned at the degradation of her capabilities behind her mask and gave herself a mental kick. She had known that going back into the locker would be bad, even though she had cut off her sense of taste and smell, and had pushed the bugs away. The temporary loss of the second, fifth, and sixth timelines was unfortunate. She'd had to forego the research once the costume was completed. It wasn't satisfactory, but given her Prime's fragile state and the work that needed to be done there, it was necessary. There would be 'time' enough later, though she was loathe to wait one minute more than she had to.

She appeared at the designated time and location for her meeting, and set a heavily dilated bubble around the covered picnic area. The two men sat with their backs to her. It didn't take Über very long to notice the effect, and Leet's reaction was amusing once it had been pointed out to him. _"Hello,"_ she said with her voice angled slightly against the differential she'd set. _"Have you come to bargain?"_ The pair turned slowly to look at her with wide eyes; combined with the ski-masks, it was comical.

Über recovered first, though he was tense. "Really? World of Warcraft, that's what you open with?" She tilted her head to the side. "Nobody plays that anymore."

Taylor shrugged a shoulder fractionally. _"I suppose not." _ She gestured at the bench opposite from them. _"So are we doing this or what?"_ She had decided to be less formal with them than she would be with the Protectorate.

Her choice had been a good one. They looked at one another and some silent communication passed between them. "Yeah, sure," Über said. She took two steps forward and sat down across from them. As she moved, Leet squinted and leaned forward. "Before we start, there's something we've gotta cover." She nodded. "Your spying on us in our base? Very not cool." Leet remained silent, but he leaned to one side. "You said you were new, Quinn, so we'll cut you a little slack – I gather that you haven't heard of the unwritten rules?"

Taylor scowled. How was anyone supposed to know about rules that weren't written down anywhere? _"I'm sorry, no I haven't."_ Leet had leaned in the opposite direction, and she knew why, but she waited for him to ask. _"I gather from your comment that my poking into your civvie den-" _

"Man-cave!" Leet piped up. "Or lair. Calling it a den is just wrong. We're not bears, after all." Über flicked his eyes to the side, but he nodded.

_"Sorry, scoping out your _man cave – _that_ _would be one of those things we're not supposed to do?"_ They both nodded. _"Okay, then I'm sorry for that. If it's any consolation, I didn't really look around or listen in much. I still have no idea what your names are. I didn't even get a good look at your faces. It seemed too kooky to do that." _And that was the truth. She'd scanned in long enough to find a good place to drop off her sample and listen to their conversation during, but that was all. _"Are there any more of these rules that I should know about?" _

They both relaxed a bit, though they still eyed her warily. "Mostly it's common sense stuff," Über said. "Try to avoid killing capes and normals, no mind control, that sort of thing. I'd say something about guns, but that's open to interpretation." Taylor nodded. "I would also point out that using powers during meetings like this are frowned on," he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the playground. "But you're obviously securing the area, so it's all good. Is that your power?"

She debated saying anything, and then gave a mental shrug. _"Let's just say that I can pretty much do whatever I want with time, among other things."_ She might have made room in her Plan for these two, but she didn't see herself totally revealing her powerset. The admission she had just made, and their reaction to that was proof enough.

Über stared, and a spark lit in Leet's eyes. "How are we not being thrown off the planet? I mean, you can stop time, but what about relative inertia?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. _"By inverting the localized 4-D chronodynamic field, I'm basically holding us in place. Simple version? Lots of math and a little concentration." _Even that sounded like a gross understatement, but it got the point across.

"Cooool," they both said. Leet didn't stop there, though. "Have you gone, you know, anywhere- any_when_ else? Is the future sweet? Can you…" Über gripped his shoulder and shook it, and Leet took a breath. "Okay, right, business first, but I gotta ask, what's up with your cloak? It wigs me out."

Taylor couldn't help but grin at his excitement. _"It's a four-dimensional matrix imprinted on a Chrono-kinetic substrate. The view is an extra-lunar orbit view pointed away from the dark side of the planet. Cool, huh?" _

Leet's balaclava shifted to the point that it was obvious his jaw had dropped. "Can… Can we touch it?" He reached a hesitant finger forward.

Taylor chuckled. _"You could, but only if you want your hands to be flash-frozen, because, you know, space." _The hand withdrew quickly. _"No?"_

Über shook his head and thumped his partner on the arm. "Quit screwing around, dude, she's not a party favor." Not that she really minded the curiosity, but it was nice to see the so-called villain showing some decency. "So your email said you want to sell some stuff to us at a steep discount. I'm curious, why us?" He un-zipped a pocket on his jacket and pulled out two wads of cash folded over and wrapped in a rubber bands.

The answer wasn't all that hard. _"That's a fair question, with a simple answer: I'm trying to stay off the radar as much as possible right now."_ She drew her hand across the table, palm down. Six cards appeared as she did so. _"I need some seed cash to get a couple of accounts started without too many questions asked."_

Leet's eyes glittered with naked avarice, and his partner kept talking. "Right. Are they stolen? Not that we mind overmuch," he shrugged. "We just like to know who we're dealing with is all."

Taylor shook her head. _"Technically, it's salvage from Newfoundland."_

"Technically?" Leet asked.

_"This is what was left behind at the Newfoundland Bullion Exchange while the island was sinking."_ This time they both gaped at her. She still felt bad, raiding a doomed island like some kind of looter, but had assuaged her guilt. There were over half a million people living there when Leviathan had sunk it, and she'd moved everyone within five miles of herself over to the mainland. Even as the exchange had flooded, sixty-three thousand people had suddenly found themselves scattered in various cities across Canada. It wasn't nearly enough, and she had promised herself that she would go back and fix it. There was so much that needed her attention, though. _"So, you're cool with ten percent?"_

"Actually, no," Über said. Taylor drew a breath to ask what they had in mind, but he waved his free hand. "We were thinking that was too low, depending on how you acted. You've been straight with us, so we'd like to see if you're interested in an arrangement."

She made a show of glancing at both of them before giving her cautious reply. _"What sort of arrangement?"_ She already knew, but early on she had decided that her dealings with people needed to at least feel _somewhat_ normal.

Über made a back and forth gesture with both hands. "We give you twenty, and maybe you help us out with our next caper." He held up both bundles, and then split them apart. "If not, we can stick to the ten percent and call it even. What do you say, Quinn?"

Taylor put her hands together and tapped her chin, as if in thought. _"Hmmm. It's a tempting offer." _She sat quietly for a minute, and they waited patiently. _"How about this? Let's stick to the ten percent for now, and I make a counter-proposal."_ She pushed the cards forward, and Über nodded as he handed over one stack of bills.

Leet scooped up the assayers cards and looked them over while she put the money in one of her belt 'compartments'. "What sort of idea did you have?" he asked.

She stood up and walked to the end of the table. _"In order to explain properly, I'll need to show you some stuff. Wanna take a ride?" _She waited there, hands clasped in front of her. The two looked at her, and then had a close-in, whispered conference that lasted less than a minute. They stood up and joined her. _"Excellent." _She drawled. She lifted a hand and a portal opened up to a brownish-red, rocky wasteland.

Leet gasped, and Über said, incredulously, "Whoa. Where and when is this?"

Taylor grinned wolfishly behind her mask, the hook was set. _"I thought I'd start with the awesome part first: This is current-day Mars."_ Über held up the other wad of money in front of her without looking.

* * *

**January 3, 2011, PRT ENE HQ**

**Emily Piggot**

Emily fervently wished that she were someone else right now, or at the very least, somewhere else. Quintessence had spent half an hour with her highlight reel of Sophia fucking Hess, and a further half hour explaining her index and its various annotations. As promised, she turned over a handful of labeled USB flash drives, which now sat in a pile in front of her.

Unfortunately, she had also declined to turn over the physical evidence in her possession – which included an evidence bag of the garbage that Sophia had carelessly disposed of, as well as the camera used to make the recordings and all of its raw footage. The girl had made it appear on the table, had stated her intent to withhold it for the time being, and then had made it disappear again.

_Damn that girl,_ she thought vehemently. _Damn the both of them._ She believed every word of Quintessence's threats to go public or to pursue this all the way up to the very top of the PRT chain of command. Neither would be a good thing, though she might have a slightly better chance at being able to work things out with the Chief Director. Either way, the cape expected an answer within the day. _Expected!_ As much as it rankled, Emily, she knew that her choices were limited. As if there was a choice. Hess had boned the PRT sideways with her behavior; the case was open and shut.

Emily had never liked the teen. She had a way of looking at everyone with a calculating gaze, one with which the director was intimately familiar with. As far as she was concerned, it should be a foregone conclusion as to what happened next, but she needed to run it up the flag pole first. The Chief Director was currently in a meeting, but her assistant had found time to work her in for a fifteen minute call afterward.

In the meantime, she now sat in her office with Armsmaster and Miss Militia. Aegis' reports were stacked neatly to one side of her desk, and she tried not to glower at them. There didn't seem to be much point in reviewing them, but Emily was nothing if not thorough. "So, do either of you have any thoughts on our newest addition to the city?"

Miss Militia looked to Armsmaster, who looked a bit green around the gills, but he gave her a nod. "Quintessence seems to be quite calm, given the circumstances." Her eyebrows were drawn down, and her tone was flat. It eased up as she continued. "She seems quite well-spoken, and obviously she's highly organized. If I had to guess her age, I would put her in her early twenties – though it's hard to say for certain with the way her voice is disguised." She paused and tilted her head. "Mover 8, at the very least; higher, depending on just how she went about collecting all of the footage. I don't want to assume anything, but…" She spread her hands.

Emily didn't like the implications any better. "Elaborate."

Miss Militia took a deep, slow breath. "For me it comes back to why she waited this long to take action. For as long as this nonsense has been happening, there was enough proof to put a stop to it over a year ago." She drew breath to speak further, and then shook her head a fraction.

Emily twirled her fingers in a circular motion. "Go on, speak your mind. I'll take anything at this point, even wild speculation."

Miss Militia glanced nervously at Armsmaster. "Forgive me, Director, but I would prefer to hear Colin's observations before I say more."

Emily nodded and turned her focus to the man. "I have a suspicion that Quintessence has some sort of time-related powerset. Given the obvious issue that Miss Militia raises, it doesn't add up. There are assaults that occurred early on. It may only be limited to remote viewing, but my other observations make that unlikely."

He tapped some controls on his armband, and a projector in the ceiling lit up on the wall behind her, which she turned to look at. "This is the first look we got of Quintessence as we came into the conference room earlier." The cape stood, back to the camera, and the image zoomed in until the cloak itself filled the viewable area. "If you look closely, you can see constellations." Red circles were drawn around different parts of the cloak. "Pegasus, Cygnus, Hercules, et-cetera. That isn't what disturbs me, however." It zoomed back out, and began to play back.

When Quintessence turned to face them, Emily noticed the effect right away. "What am I looking at, here? Some kind of holographic material?" The star field remained stationary, so that no matter what part of the cloak was being viewed, the scene did not change.

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "No, Director, I don't believe so. Colin, is there a way to do that and have the same imagery be visible from multiple angles?"

His answer was immediate. "Not to my knowledge - from a single point of observation, perhaps. And then there is this." An overlay of his HUD appeared. Several lines picked out different parts of the costume. Flashing red text blinked alongside each, all stating the same thing: **Material: Unknown**.

"And finally, there is her so-called holographic projector." The time index fast-forwarded to a close-up view of the orb that Quintessence had floated over the conference table. It seemed to have no hard surface, but rather it warped the air around it to a small degree. The interior was dimly lit by a spiral shape, which Armsmaster expanded even further. "If I'm not mistaken, that is a representation of the Milky Way Galaxy." He blew it up yet again, and the detail was absolutely stunning. "This is the maximum magnification my visor is capable of, which is five hundred times."

Emily leaned forward and her heart skipped a beat. "I…" She was normally not one to be at a loss for words. She sat back and rubbed two fingers into her temple, and swiveled back around to face them. "Spell it out for me."

Armsmaster tapped the inside of his wrist and the projector dimmed. "I believe that Quintessence has limited access to manipulate the fourth dimension, or it may be more pronounced than that. It's the only way I know of to accomplish what she's shown us today, and seems to be the most logical reason for her inaction regarding Miss Hebert until now."

Emily Piggot closed her eyes. Somewhere, God was laughing at her misfortune, she just _knew_ it. She opened her eyes and turned them toward Miss Militia, whose own eyes were wide. She nodded mutely. "Sweet Christ, I do not need this shit today – or ever!" She growled and lowered her voice. "That's an S-class threat if ever there was one."

Armsmaster's lips thinned to the point where they turned white. "Director, are you certain we should be assessing Quintessence as such-"

Emily cut him off. "You can be damned sure that _someone_ will do it. I don't care if she saves the world a hundred-thousand times over _and_ tells us her deepest, darkest secrets – that kind of power is ridiculous, even in this day and age." She sighed and pressed her palms down against her desk, hard. "However, we will still need to give her an answer about how we're handling the Hess situation."

Miss Militia set her arms on the edge of her desk. "And how _are_ we going to respond?"

Emily answered immediately. "Oh, we'll be dealing with Sophia Hess, all right. That much is clear as day: Off to juvie she goes." They both nodded in approval. "We have badly failed Miss Hebert in that regard, and any other victims that may have fallen prey to the monster in our midst."

She considered her options for a moment, and then issued orders. "Armsmaster, I want you to secure her as soon as she arrives for her shift this afternoon. Do not call her in early, and do not tell the other wards. Neutralize her in the elevator and secure her in a cell. After that, I want you to work with BBPD to get their cooperation." She flicked her fingers at the pile of papers and flash drives. "This is more than enough to convince any sane judge, but I want it to be so air-tight that pennies bounce into the stratosphere."

He nodded and rose. "Understood, Director." He turned to go, and then stopped and faced her again. "What would you like me to do with the other footage, ma'am?"

"Sit on it for now. I know we have a mole problem, and I don't want one iota of this to slip out there. That's all we need right now on top of everything else in this shit sandwich." He nodded again and made his way out of the office.

She turned back to Miss Militia, who seemed to know the turn of her thoughts. "Would you like for me to check on Taylor Hebert's condition?"

Emily nodded, but held up a firm finger. "Yes, but for God's sake, be circumspect about it. We don't need angry parents storming the lobby demanding answers either."

Miss Militia nodded. "Of course, Director, I will be discreet." She left moments later.

Emily sat up in her chair and kneaded her fists into the small of her back. "Jesus H. Christ," she muttered. It did little to ease the ache there, and nothing at all for the tension headache that pressed the inside of her skull. The phone began to ring.

* * *

**January 3, 2011, Brockton Bay General  
Taylor Prime**

Once the examination was done, and Taylor was clad in a hospital gown, things settled. Rather than clean up the mess she had made (for which she had fuzzily apologized), the nurses and Panacea wheeled her bed to another empty room. The New Wave healer had offered to stay until her dad got there. The officer who had taken her clothes had informed them that he had been located and called in. Taylor felt bad about the worry he surely felt right now, and she hoped that he would drive carefully.

Now it was just the two of them: The nurses had moved to attend other patients, and the cops had gone to file their reports. Panacea sat beside her, and at first she was content to do so quietly. As the minutes ticked by, though, it was clear that she was repressing her urge to talk. "Go on, ask," Taylor said.

Panacea raised her eyebrows and blinked a few times. "Are you sure? Don't you want to wait for your dad to get here?" Taylor was a bit more relaxed now that she'd dropped the PRT timeline. Blackwell could wait, as could the… other things that she wanted to do. Most of them would require a certain amount of delicacy, and at least one was a potentially serious conversation with her dad. "Alright then, you know you triggered, right?" She nodded. "Do you know what your power is?"

Taylor gave her a wan smile. "Oh yeah, definitely. I figured it out about ten minutes after I got it."

Panacea returned her smile with a sage nod. "It's a toss-up for sure: I knew that something was different about me, but it took a day or two to figure out what it was." She snorted and shook her head at some memory that she didn't elaborate on. "So what can you do? You don't have to tell me, but I have to admit, I'm curious. I know that it's stupid strong, whatever it is."

Taylor winked at her and hoped that she was making the right decision. "It's probably easier to show you." She held out her hand. "Wanna take a ride?" Panacea looked at her, and then at the offered hand. "It's perfectly safe, I promise." When she hesitantly reached to take it, Taylor said, "Just, don't freak out, alright?"

Panacea started to withdraw, and then changed her mind and wrapped her fingers around Taylor's. She yelped as the hospital room vanished into the featureless white. She looked around a little wildly, at first, and then she focused on the padded leather chairs to her right. The ferret was curled up on one, and it rolled over with a happy little bark.

[GREETINGS, PANACEA.]

The girl shrieked and clutched her head, and then her eyes rolled up into her head. She fell over a moment later. Taylor summoned a big pile of fluffy cushions to catch her, and then fixed the ferret with a frustrated glare. "Menny, we really need to talk about your bedside manner."

The ferret had the good grace to look abashed.

[APOLOGIES.]


	6. 1-6 - Interlude

**Sub-Dimension Zero  
Taylor Prime, Iteration 1,205**

Taylor sat quietly in the comfy chair and sipped on a cup of tea. Panacea lay on a couch opposite, and she pondered what to say this time. The girl had not taken things well when she woke up the first time; she had so many issues. The Plan didn't require Taylor to include her, but at this point it wasn't about allies so much as it was helping someone in need. Amy Dallon, frankly, was a wreck in costume, barely holding it together.

Amy had been hysterical to the point of being unintelligible, and Taylor felt awful. At first she had worried that somehow she had broken the girl's mind. She could have wound back to before the moment she'd offered to bring them into the sub-dimension, but that wouldn't solve her other problems. As tempting as it was to brute-force a solution, even a partial one, she had a gut feeling that it would do more harm than good.

Early on it had become clear that the default scenery of the SDZ was a big part of the problem, and so Taylor had tried to reshape it around them a few times. Amy was clearly uncomfortable in her own home, so she'd tried the hospital, the Boardwalk, to name a few. Even her home didn't seem to be very helpful, and it always ended in hysterics. The only good thing that had come of the situation was her own awkwardness, eroded away to nothing.

Taylor was getting frustrated; after twelve hundred attempts, she had decided to do some backtracking through Amy's timeline. What she found explained a lot, and it was all but impossible not to feel sorry for the girl. It was also extremely difficult not to be infuriated with her adoptive family. To make matters worse, she didn't see anything resembling a productive conversation happening with the Dallons. There was hope for Vicky, but the 'parents' were a giant ball of tangled thorns that she didn't have time for.

In the end, Taylor thought she'd found a good way to approach Amy, and she had set the pocket in motion. A fire crackled in a hearth several feet to her left, which cast a dim light. The room was richly appointed; the walls and floor were all paneled in mahogany and the smell of pine mixed in with the light aroma of wood smoke. The steady thump of a grandfather clock echoed through the room, and Amy stirred beneath a dark green Cashmere blanket.

_Thump, thump, thump_.

Amy sighed and her eyes slowly opened. She sat up and stretched, which made her elbows click, and she yawned as she did so. Once that was done, she seemed to realize that something was off, but this time there was no panicked examination of her surroundings. She turned to look at Taylor, and her eyes narrowed. "I had the strangest dream. You were there, and there was a ferret, and…" She squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed her face. "My head hurts. What happened?"

Taylor took another sip of her tea and then set the cup and saucer on the table beside her. "I'm really, really sorry about that, Amy. You're the first person I've brought into the sub-dimension." Amy blinked and looked around the room. "We're still inside, but I decided to make it a little less overwhelming for you."

Amy seemed to accept that. "Okay, so that's your power, pocket dimensions and stuff?" She paused and then looked around again. "Where's the talking ferret that made my brain ring like an angry bell – and how does it figure in to this?"

Taylor clucked her tongue from behind parted teeth, and Menny scampered into view. Amy eyed the furry little beast warily as he clambered up the table leg and crawled along the surface. He stopped in front of her and rose up to look at her, and then he dooked a couple of times. "Out of order, this is Menny, and he says that he's very sorry for what he did. He's a personification of my power, and it's really complicated, but his native language is, hmm, I guess the best word I can think of is _dense_."

She waited as Amy looked between the two of them. "So… I'm confused. Your power is a talking ferret that lets you, what? Manipulate pocket dimensions?" She glanced around the den again. "Why this place – what's it supposed to be?"

Taylor grinned wryly. "I stumbled into Sub-dimension Zero by accident. In the process, I figured out the source of everyone's powers." Taylor took a deep breath. She had tried playing her powers off, giving partial explanations, and so many other variations. This time she opted to tell the whole truth. "Powers are sentient, multi-dimensional beings." The look on Amy's face was dubious. "I know, it sounds crazy-"

Amy scoffed. "No, really, do you think so?" She sat back and crossed her arms. "I don't suppose you can prove any of this, can you?" She crossed her arms and huffed. "How long have we even been in here?"

Taylor sighed and rubbed her forehead. This was going better than the last several hundred times, but clearly she had a long way to go. "Look, Amy… I think we got off on the wrong foot." Amy snorted, but said nothing. "Time is a non-issue, here – relativistically speaking. You helped me out, and I really want to return the favor. Will you let me try to do that?"

The girl leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean by time not being an issue, and what _exactly_ do you think I need 'help' with?" she asked with finger quotes.

Taylor carefully made a neutral mask of her features. "It's complicated, but it has to do with how I got my powers. This place lets me do whatever I want in less than the blink of an eye," Amy started to say something, but she interrupted "-and before you ask, no, you won't age outside the natural order of things – which is harder to explain. But before I do that…" she tilted her head and held out her hand.

Amy looked at her, and then down at the ferret, who had curled up during their conversation. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "Fine, I'll listen and try to keep an open mind." And so, Taylor recounted for her reluctant companion, in brief, what had happened to her starting with her mother's death. She explained the bullying, and even offered to show her some of the video that she'd taken.

"Wait, hold on – are you telling me that Sophia Hess did this to you?" Taylor nodded. "And you know who she is." It wasn't a question, and she didn't deny it. "Alright, that is fucked up on _so_ many levels. We need to-" Taylor held up her hand. "What?"

She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. "That situation is _well_ in hand, Amy, but thank you." She relaxed and took up her teacup again. "Would you like something? Tea, coffee, or whatever?"

Amy seemed calmer, now. "I'll take some water, if you don't mind." Taylor waved her hand, and a pitcher of water appeared on the table alongside a tall glass. She stared at it for a moment, and then shrugged. "I suppose we're getting to the part where you explain how you're doing all of this, right?"

Taylor smiled as the girl poured a glass and sipped from it. "That was the general idea, yeah." Amy said nothing, but made a 'get-on-with-it' motion. "Menny, fetch the Index, please?" The ferret bounced up and hopped down to the carpet with a plop, and he skittered over to the large bookcase on the far wall to her right. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, and that means full-disclosure about my power."

She watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Your power or the ferret?" Her eyes bugged halfway out of her head as she watched him pull a huge tome from the bottom shelf and haul it back over. "Strong little guy, isn't he?" _You have no idea,_ Taylor thought. The book made an impressive smack sound as it was tossed up onto the table, and Amy startled, and then she watched in bemusement as the ferret climbed back onto the table and shoved it over to where she sat. She looked at the book, and then at Taylor. "You power literally comes with an instruction manual?"

Taylor shook her head ruefully. "That's just the index, and really it's just my vision of it – but yes, it makes things simpler." She indicated the book with a pointed finger. "Go ahead, have a look."

Amy took another drink and set down her glass, and then she flipped open the cover. The ferret snuffled at her hand, and she absently stroked its little body as she scanned the pages. Menny leaned into her fingers, and Taylor suppressed a naughty chuckle at the thought of her power being fondled by the older girl. Her eyes got wider and wider with each page, until she got to the end, and then her head pulled back in confusion. She flipped back and forth through the pages, and she sagged in confusion.

"I have so many questions," she said, dully. The look she gave Taylor was a mixture of emotions, and she understood just how the poor girl felt. "You really think I need help?"

Taylor gave her a level gaze. "Amy, I don't want you to take this the wrong way..." she said, carefully.

Amy's tone was guarded. "But?"

Taylor plunged ahead. "But. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, and I know that sounds arrogant as all hell, but I really do want to help. You are one bad day away from having a full-blown China syndrome meltdown, and it's not even your fault."

She drew in a sharp breath, and looked stricken. Taylor bounced her hands in the air. "Hey, hey, it's okay, Amy. It hasn't happened yet, which tells me that you're one hell of a tough cookie." This apparently was the wrong thing to say, because tears began to dribble down Amy's cheeks. Taylor chided herself; she got up and edged around the table so she could sit next to her. "Fuck, I'm sorry – I'm no good at this, and I'm explaining it all wrong."

She rubbed her hand across Amy's back and wasn't sure what else to say. "You're right, I'm so messed up right now," Amy said with her head hung down. "Everyone expects me to be Panacea, and god knows I've tried, but…" She scrubbed the back of her hand across her cheeks, and Taylor handed her a tissue. "And you, you're this crazy patient – a random stranger, and you talk to me like you've known me my whole life. Hell, you've probably been all up and down it for all I know." There was some heat and resentment there, and Taylor didn't deny it.

She shrugged. "I know you have questions, and this all seems super weird, Amy, but I'm doing my best. We've kind of been all over the place, but I really do think I can help you."

"How?" The question was so simple, and yet the answer was not.

Taylor gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Look around: Does this place seem familiar to you?"

_Thump, thump, thump._

Amy wiped her nose and wrinkled up the tissue, and she didn't notice when it vanished from her hand. Her attention was focused on their surroundings as she truly looked at it for the first time. "Now that you mention it… Yeah." Taylor gave her a gentle shove, and Amy stood up. The blanket fell in a pool at her feet, and she started to bend down to grab it. She halted when she realized what she was wearing. Taylor prided herself on getting the details mostly right. "My Little Pony pajamas?" Amy looked at her in disbelief, and then horror flooded her features. "You didn't-"

"Of course not," Taylor cut in. Her clothing changed from a t-shirt and jeans to baggy sweats and a hoodie. "Anything I can imagine, right? No embarrassing strip-down necessary." She took her by the shoulders and turned her to face a corner. There her costume robe and scarf hung from a mannequin. "It took me a while to find a place where you felt safe. Do you recognize it?"

Amy wordlessly moved around the couch and made her way over to the bookcases that lined the wall. She ran her fingers across the spines as she followed them to the far end of the room. A large desk rested there, and the surface was bare, but for a large calendar and a cup filled with pencils and pens.

There was also a porcelain statue of a unicorn that reared on its hind legs. When Amy's eyes fell on it, she gasped. "Oh! I… I used to play here!" She rushed over to the desk and softly picked up the little statue as if it would shatter. "Why here?" she asked.

Taylor joined her at the desk and peered at the unicorn clutched protectively, and then she looked Amy in the eye. "You know you're adopted." Amy nodded, and Taylor gestured around the room. "This was the first place where you didn't immediately flip out when you woke up: Your father's house."

"Is he…?"

"Dead? No, but it's not good news. Are you sure you want to know?"

Amy shook her head. "I think I already have an idea – it isn't _that_ hard to figure out. Was he a villain?" Taylor nodded once, and Amy tensed. "I need to know. Who is he?"

Taylor resisted the urge to ask yet again if Amy was sure. "Marquis," she said, simply.

Amy looked poleaxed. "Really? The bone guy is my dad? The one that got thrown in the Birdcage?"

"The very same." Taylor watched Amy's face, looking for some sign that she was going to fall apart. When that didn't happen, she ventured, "Hey, are you okay?" Amy slumped against the edge of the desk, and then slid down to sit on the rug beneath it. Taylor crouched down next to her and folded her legs beneath herself. "I swear, when I asked if you wanted to take a ride, I didn't mean for it to be on the feels-coaster."

Amy snorted.

_Good. She's going to need that sense of humor later on._


	7. 1-7 - Interlude

**January 3, 2011 – PRT ENE HQ  
Sophia Hess**

Sophia got out of the van with a light step and made her way through the sub-basement parking garage. She grinned maliciously at the success of their prank. It had surprised her how much of a stir it had caused, but there was no way that the cops would be able to prove anything. Hebert's screams had been music to her ears. It served her right, having never fought back. Emma and Madison had laughed with her all the way to class, and they had indulged in taking bets on how long it would take for someone to let the loser out.

They had all agreed that if nobody had come along by the end of school, one of the patsies would drop the dime. As it had happened, the janitor had found her and made an mess in the process. She suppressed a shudder. The stench had been so bad, even with the clothespin. She'd been forced to burn the clothes she'd worn that night, but it was a small price to pay.

Madison had been the least enthusiastic about it, even though it had been her idea in the first place. Emma, on the other hand, didn't hesitate at all. She had wanted her one-time friend to find the same strength that she had, but Sophia had made up her mind about Hebert the moment she laid eyes on her. It was painfully clear that the loser would never fight back – not that it would have done her any good. No, it was best this way: They would have to just keep pushing her until she got the hint. Sophia had high hopes that their latest scheme might do the trick. If not…

It was these thoughts that occupied her right up to the elevator doors. Her train of thought was broken when they parted to reveal Armsbastard. "Sir," she said bluntly, and she stepped into the car with him. He was probably on his way down to the Wards base to bother people with his usual BS.

He gave her a single nod. "Miss Hess," he said. "I hear there was some trouble at school today." She gave him a glance and shrugged. "Do you know Miss Hebert very well?" Why would he care? Hebert was a nobody and a loser. The question made her nervous, but she kept herself from fidgeting. Predators don't do that.

Sophia shrugged casually. "Not really. She's a weird loner, and kind of a troublemaker." It was a statement which she believed wholeheartedly. She was careful not to lie around the man while he wore that damned helmet. "I don't see what the big deal is, it was just a prank."

She barely had time to register a heavy hand clamp down on her shoulder when she heard a crackle, and her muscles seized up. Then, darkness fell along with her limp body.

**November 27, 2010 – Mars  
Taylor 2/Quintessence 1**

Taylor stood on the rocky ground and stared out over the barren landscape. Über and Leet had followed her through the portal, though they didn't stray far from it. _"Welcome to Sacra Mensa,"_ she said with a sweep of her arms. They stood near a cliff that dropped down almost two kilometers, and the land descended into a valley. She turned to face them as her power delved downward. _"Well, what do you think?"_

Neither said anything at first, but eventually Leet broke the silence in a bemused daze. "We're on Mars." He hopped in place, and gasped when he didn't stop at a few inches. "WHOA!" he shouted in terrified glee as came back down from the three foot jump. "WE'RE ON MARS!"

Über watched his partner's feat, and not to be outdone, crouched and put his all into a jump that took him well above both of their heads. "Wooohooo! This is so dope!" Taylor snickered, and though she was tempted to put them both to shame, she was content to just watch them whoop and leap to see who could go the highest.

The novelty of low-gravity wore off after a couple of minutes, and they settled down with chuckles and rejoined her at the nearby precipice. "Quinn," Über began, "I don't know what your offer is, but I think I can speak for the both of us when I say we're in."

"Hell yes we're in!" Leet crowed. "So, uh, what is it that we're signing up for, exactly?"

Taylor tilted her head. _"Just like that?"_ she asked. It wasn't that she was surprised at their answer; the villains were adventurers.

Über, of course, stated the obvious. "Are you kidding? We're the first humans – excuse me, the first _parahumans_ to visit another planet!" He flung his arms high and wide as he shouted. "We would have to be idiots to say no!" It was a statement with which Leet enthusiastically agreed. "So, what's the plan? Why here?"

_"Well, I picked this region because it's the most geologically stable," _she replied. _"This is Plan B: I'm going to build a colony."_

They looked at each other in disbelief, and then they looked at her. Leet opened up with a barrage of questions. "What about the atmosphere? Are we doing domes? Where will all the materials come from? How many other people are going to get in on this? And what about-"

Taylor raised a hand, and Leet gulped air. _"To answer your questions in order: Atmosphere won't be a problem after six months, we're not doing domes, materials will come from right here as much as possible," _she said, pointing at the ground between them. _"and as many people as we can quietly bring in."_

Über squinted at her. "You're absolutely serious, aren't you?"

_"Deadly."_

He grabbed the sides of his head for a moment. "Okay, so we're not doing domes because the atmosphere will be habitable in six months. How does that work, and why so long?"

Her head turned from one to the other before she answered. _"Well, because the planet is being terraformed as we speak, silly."_ She grinned at the looks of horror nearly made their eyes pop out of their sockets.

Leet whispered in awe. "You can do that?"

_"I can. Doing it right now, in fact."_ Leet slouched, and Über did a fish impression. _"We probably shouldn't stick around or come back for a week or so, though."_

Leet took it rather well. "You know what? Fuck it, I believe you." He bent over and put his hands on his knees. "I think I need to sit down." She waved her hand and a couch materialized behind them, and they both sank down silently. "Why the week?"

Taylor summoned a char and sat. _"In order to fix the atmosphere, the magnetosphere has to be repaired, which means the core density has to go up by a couple of orders of magnitude." _When neither interrupted, she pressed on. _"This might be one of the most stable areas, but that sort of thing is going to cause a lot of Mars-quakes. I could do it faster, but it would cause volcanoes to pop up all over the place." _

They both nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You mentioned that this was Plan B. What's Plan A, Quinn?" Über asked quietly. "What do you need _us_ for?"

In answer, Taylor stood up, took three steps forward, and sat down between them. She spun the portal around in front of them to one side and pointed. _"I need to figure out a way to do that without powers, and I think you both can help with that. As for Plan A, well, that's the less fun part." _

She held up her right hand and a tilted, empty metal frame appeared before them. _"I need to show you this, otherwise you'll never believe me." _A bright red square of light appeared in one section, and then expanded to fill it. A pair of bright specks enlarged, and the process repeated again, until Earth and the Moon were clearly evident.

She splayed out the fingers of her left palm, and a blue glow engulfed it. Time began to cycle forward, and the image of their homeworld began to spin faster and faster. The sun rose and set at an ever increasing pace, until it flickered back and forth across the sky in a steady arc.

_"You remember when you asked if the future is awesome, Leet?" _

He nodded, and she decelerated their pace. "How far forward have we come?"

The procession slowed to real-time, and she replied. _"It's October fifth, twenty-twenty-nine."_ She made a claw of her right hand and squeezed empty air. The Earth on the viewscreen began to show ghost images of itself, slightly offset, until it stretched across the full width. _"This is every version of Earth. Now, watch."_

At first, nothing happened, but then red lines formed across the Asian continent. They grew brighter and angrier. Without warning, their tiny blue planet, the only home humankind had ever known across all universes, exploded.

Über summed their mutual fear with one word.

"Fuck!"


	8. 2-1 - Delineation

**Sub-Dimension Zero  
Amy Dallon**

Taylor sat in quiet contemplation in the easy chair beside the fireplace. The muted crackle of flames masked the rustling of cloth as Amy dressed in her street clothes once more, out of sight behind the girl. The entire affair had been disturbing, frustrating, and so she had declined to have her outfit changed by the girl. At the same time, she felt a sense of relief. They had talked for hours, and even though Amy still had misgivings, she could see that Taylor was genuine in her desire to help.

She pulled the robe on and settled the hood in place, but left the scarf down, as she usually did for hospital visits. "I'm ready now," she said. "Are you sure we won't have been missed?"

Taylor stood up and stepped around the chair. "Yeah, it'll be like we never left." She pursed her lips for a moment. "I know I threw a bunch of stuff at you, and there's more I wanted to talk about, but it will keep. Thank you for listening." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but decided to leave it at that. Amy _was_ curious, but she agreed. There was so much to think about.

Taylor held out her hand, but Amy hesitated. "Could I… Could I come back here sometime, maybe?" Taylor's eyes wrinkled and her lips curved in a small smile. "We could trade phone numbers, or something."

She snorted. "Of course you can, and we can talk any time. In fact, I have a better idea than just trading numbers. Here, give me your hand." Amy held up her arm, and Taylor took her hand in both of hers, turning it to face palm up. "Just a little change, if that's okay?"

"What kind of change?" Amy asked. She wasn't sure about whatever Taylor had in mind, but so far nothing bad had really happened.

Taylor hovered her hands around Amy's. "It's not anything anyone will notice – not even you, really. Think of it like a key, only the door is wherever you need it to be." She gave Amy an inquiring look. At her nod, a gentle glow rose up to envelop her hand up to the wrist, and her fingers tingled briefly. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, and as far as she could tell, she wasn't being physically altered. "So all you need to do is picture this place, and hold out your hand like so." The glow faded, and Taylor splayed out her fingers perpendicular to the ground, like a stopping motion. "I can make it do more later, if you want, but for now this will get you in and out."

Amy looked at her palm in surprise, and then at Taylor. "You're giving me the ability to teleport between dimensions?"

Taylor waggled her hand back and forth. "It isn't so much the ability as it is a kind of pickup: Your power fuels it. Also, I can't really tie the no-time effect without actually being here – an hour inside is an hour outside, understand?" Amy was dumbfounded, but she nodded. "Come on, let's head back for now."

Amy took hold and their surroundings changed back to the hospital room. There was no disorientation. One second, they were standing in front of one another, and the next she sat next to the bed that Taylor lay on. She withdrew her hand slowly and she stared at it. Nothing looked or felt different about it, and she let it fall into her lap. They stayed like that, quiet and content with their own thoughts. Amy had promised to stay until Mr. Hebert arrived. A nurse came with food, which Taylor nibbled at. Another came a short while later with a set of scrubs and flip-flops, as Taylor's father was coming straight to the hospital.

While they waited, Amy turned the things they had talked about over in her mind. She had no idea what to do with the information. Certainly, she could confront Carol, if she wanted to. The woman had taken her into their home, but never once had she shown any affection or love – hardly surprising, considering that it was the Brigade that had taken down her father. No, it was always, 'Amy, do this' or 'Panacea, do that' – like she was some kind of dangerous robot. It definitely wasn't how Vicky treated her, or how her mother treated her. As far as Carol Dallon was concerned, Amy was at best a useful, long-term house guest that might go on a rampage at any moment.

She was also deeply relieved to learn that Taylor had not, in fact, 'been all up and down her life'. Instead, she had poked around just long enough to realize that there was a problem. She was right about one thing, though – something had to change. Amy just wasn't sure what it was, but she had the beginnings of some ideas. She just needed time. Another thought occurred to her. "Taylor, are you sure about that other thing?"

Taylor paused with her arms still inside the gown. "The taking turns here thing?" Amy shrugged as if to say, _duh_. "Honestly, it feels like the right thing to do, not just for you, but because I can." She shifted around and her head disappeared into the flimsy garment. "Besides, it will keep attention off my other projects – or at least, I _hope_ it will." She slid the gown off her head, and then folded it up as best she could.

Amy leaned back into the uncomfortable chair and fidgeted. "Aren't you worried about that, though? The gangs would literally kill to get control of a healer." That had been something Amy had worried about when she first gotten her powers. Being with New Wave had insulated her, but Taylor had no such protection, and neither did her father.

Taylor tossed the folded gown at the end of her bed with a smug look. "I would _love_ to see them try." She tousled her hair and winced when her fingers snagged on tangles. "Any villain who thinks they're going to make me do things for them will be in for a nasty surprise." A brush appeared, and for a moment she worked it carefully through her hair, and then she snorted. She made the brush disappear and shook her head. Her hair rippled and settled down, gleaming as if it had just been given a hundred strokes.

"Okay, now that's just pure bs," Amy said enviously. Hers was so frizzy that it was more trouble than it was worth, most of the time. Vicky had eventually given up on getting her to do anything with it beyond basic washing.

"Don't hate me because my hair power is greater than yours, Panacea."

Amy blew a raspberry at her. "Fine, Miss Perfect-Hair-Power. Have you considered a cape identity for your little act of misdirection?" The girl was hell-bent on helping, but hadn't really gone into detail.

Taylor looked up at the ceiling in thought, and then gave her a mischievous look. "What if I took a page from your book? Nostrum has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Amy dug out her phone and looked it up, and then mock she scowled. "The Latin for 'medicine'? This is outrageous! Brand infringement! I demand royalties!" Taylor snickered, and Amy couldn't keep up the act; she relented and joined in. Deep down, she knew that Taylor was putting on a show of her own. There was a strain around her eyes, and her amusement seemed forced. Mental trauma had widely different effects on people, and she had seen this often enough to know that it was just easier to go along with it.

They were still throwing playful word-jabs at one another when the door opened to admit a tall, balding man.

**November 27, 2010 – The Docks  
Leet**

Quintessence was insane, Leet had decided, and he had chosen to cope with the revelation of Armageddon the only way he knew how: Be insane right alongside her. Their visit to the Martian world had devolved into lots of angry, panicked shouting, which had lasted for about an hour. The only reason they had returned to Earth was due to the steadily growing tremors. She had rewound everything back to their proper time signatures and done her best to answer their hysterical questions. Sadly, she had no answers for every one that she did have something.

They went back to the park first, and then they had invited her back to the lair. There wasn't any point in pretending that she didn't know where it was. They were on for the full ride, now. After a short discussion, the both of them agreed to unmask once they got back – and Quinn didn't have to if she didn't want to. Leet almost hoped that she wouldn't. The ride back had been quiet, something for which he was thankful. Even his motor-mouth had stalled.

The two-story warehouse rolled into view, and Über stopped long enough for him to use the remote control to open the sliding bay door. Once they were inside, Über put the gear in park and shut off the engine. "Here we are, home sweet home. For now, anyway." They got out, and Quintessence followed them on silent feet.

The garage area was partitioned off by heavy-duty plastic sheets strung up on clotheslines, and they pushed through those. The living area was front and center, with the couch, flat-screen, and their various gaming consoles. "So, this is the obvious bit," Über said. He waved at a doorway to the right, and then to a pair of closed doors on the left. "Kitchen that way, bathroom and so on are over there." He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the back of the couch, and Leet did the same. "Before we do anything else, though…" They pulled off their balaclavas. "Ben Keller," Über introduced himself, and he shrugged. "Dad was a Star Wars nerd."

Leet scrubbed a hand through his hair and tossed the mask over his shoulder. "Wyatt Langdon and no funny story for me – not that I know of, anyway." His dad had split before he'd even learned to crawl, and his mom had worked herself into an early grave to keep a roof over their heads. "So yeah, anyway, if you don't wanna…" he gestured at her mirrored face place. "It's all good.

Quintessence tilted her head and looked at them both. _"You're still in, even with knowing what's going to happen?" she asked. _

Ben and Wyatt both nodded, but the older man did the talking. "We don't know how we figure into your plans beyond your insane plan B, but if plan A is save the world, then yeah, we are. Besides the obvious, all our stuff is here."

Quinn nodded. _"Then I don't see why not," _she said. The clothing and armor warped and twisted into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and the mask faded away to reveal a beanpole of a teenage girl. "Taylor Hebert – it's nice to meet you."

The silence drew out for a few heartbeats before Leet grunted. "Jesus Christ, how old are you, sixteen?!" His voice was strangled. "You have got to be _sh-"_

Über cut him off. "For as often as the Wards have kicked our asses, don't judge, dude." Leet slouched and hung his head in admission.

Taylor gave them a shy smile. "It's not that bad, you know. I mean, if there was ever a powerset to have in your corner…" She shrugged. "So what do you two want to do now? I could take you through the basics of the plan over takeout, if you want."

Über cut chopped empty air. "No, we're not doing that. As self-proclaimed Morale Officer, I'm ordering a cease fire on all the heavy shit for the rest of the night." Leet was pretty sure he was joking, but he didn't sound like it.

Taylor, on the other hand, took it in stride with a sparkle in her eye. "Morale Officer, huh?"

"That's right, but I don't do windows."

Leet snorted. "Then what does that make me?"

Taylor grinned. "Well _duh_, you're the Chief Engineer."

Leet smacked an open palm on his forehead. "We're doomed!"

Taylor shook her head. "Aww, don't be like that, Wyatt. You, me, and Menny can all have a sit down with your power tomorrow and have a nice chat." She plowed on before either had a chance to comment. "What's on the menu? I can get us whatever to eat, which is the least I should do after…"

Über beckoned her toward them, and gracefully rolled over the back of the couch. "Come, grasshopper. We'll pick out a movie to watch and maybe play a little deathmatch afterward." Leet vaulted over the couch, and Taylor appeared between them. "I'm down for some Thai, what about you Wy?"

The two men shifted over a bit so they weren't crowding one another. "Yeah man, that sounds good." He helped them clear some space on the coffee table, and food magically appeared with a wave of Taylor's hand. "Dude. Best cap'n _ever_!"

They spent a minute getting food sorted, and then Taylor asked, "Since I brought the noms, you guys get to pick the movie." She took a bite of duck curry, while Leet futzed with the remote and looked through the list. When he stopped on a selection, Über choked on a mouthful. Taylor slapped him on the back and gave Leet a suspicious glare. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Leet gave her a cheesy grin around a mouthful of noodles.

Über managed to wheeze out a laugh and shake his head violently. He tried to talk, but gave up and stuck a thumb in the air instead. He finally managed a halting 'Puh-f'kt!' and thumped his fist on his chest a couple of times. "Isn't this that Aleph knockoff of Mission to Mars?" Leet only responded by pressing play.

**A/N - Sorry for the short chapter! Business abounded this week, which left me precious little time to make my deadline. I should be back to form on Saturday. ;) **


	9. 2-2 - Delineation

**January 3, Brockton Bay General  
Danny**

The tires barked as Danny stomped the brake, and he cursed. It wasn't for his poor driving so much as it was for himself. He should have _known_ that there were problems for Taylor at school. She had become even more withdrawn in the year since Annette's death. Every time he had tried to talk to her, she had played it off. He had tried to press her, and it had only made her retreat farther. He had _not_ given up, but space seemed to be the only thing he had to offer. He hated it, but Taylor had inherited his obstinate nature. Annette had always been better at that sort of thing.

The hospital loomed like a glowering giant, and its many-eyed windows seemed to judge him. He wasted no more time with the self-recrimination he had flogged himself with during the entire drive over. Taylor was in there: She needed him and he was going to do a better job of being her father. And he was god damned sure that he would get to the bottom of this nonsense, too. He slapped the car into park, the seatbelt came off, and he stalked across the parking lot.

The visit from the police had nearly stopped his heart. It was something Danny had never hoped to experience again. Fear and despair had been washed away when the officer had assured him that his daughter was fine. That trepidation had been replaced first by confusion, and then anger as the situation had been explained to him. A prank so foul that Panacea had to be called away from her own lessons? He knew that Winslow had a reputation, but this was just beyond the pale.

The lobby doors slid apart and he went straight to the reception desk. A young blonde-haired man dressed in aqua scrubs sat behind the desk, and he perked up when Danny approached. "Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"

Danny stepped up to the counter and placed a hand on it. "I'm here to see my daughter, Taylor Hebert." He suppressed his fury as best he could, but it still came out harshly. If the receptionist was bothered by his barely checked temper, he didn't let it show.

The man nodded and tapped a staccato of keys and looked at the monitor. "Yes sir, she's been moved to the recovery ward on the fifth floor." He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "She's in room five-oh-eight, and Panacea is with her now."

Danny had already started moving, but he tossed a 'thank you' over his shoulder as he rushed to the elevator. While he waited, he stewed in his own impatience. The description of the 'prank' was what galled the most. Apparently, the smell was appalling, even from twenty feet away. How did nobody notice that all day long? Or the fact that Taylor hadn't been in classes the entire time? One thing was for certain, there would be _hell_ to pay.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Danny started to step inside, but paused when a middle-eastern woman moved to exit the car. "Oh, excuse me," he said, and he stepped aside to let her pass. She gave him a polite nod as she stepped past; she pulled out a cell phone and started dialing. He stared after her for a moment, and then moved into the car. He pressed the button marked five several times and drew a deep breath for the glacial pace of the damned thing.

When the lift doors finally opened, he pushed through them impatiently and stepped out into a corridor that split in three directions. Signs hung from the ceiling of the intersection, and he turned left toward the indicated recovery wing. A short walk led him past several closed doors, and he ended up at a nurse's station. There were two women and one man doing various things, mostly related to paperwork.

One of the ladies, middle-aged and blue-eyed, paused in her filing and gave him a friendly smile. "May I help you, sir?"

"Yes ma'am," he began. "I'm looking for room five-oh-eight, please. I'm here to see my daughter."

The nurse gave him a perfunctory nod. "Mr. Hebert?" she asked, and he returned the nod. "May I see your ID, please?" He fished out his wallet and passed over his driver's license. She examined it for a moment, and then returned it to him. She then pointed to their right. "It's the fourth door on the left. Panacea is still with her, but they're finished and just waiting for you. I'll page Doctor Simmons to meet you there."

"Thank you," he said. He put his license and wallet away, and then walked in the direction she'd indicated. He was filled with a momentary dread as he walked, but did his best to dismiss it. The world's greatest healer had worked her magic. The fact that she had to intervene at all said something about Taylor's condition when they had brought her in. He couldn't imagine being stuck in a tiny locker, let alone one filled with filth. His worry came back with ugly little friends. Such a thing would give him, a grown man, nightmares. What would it have done to his teenage daughter's state of mind?

Too soon, he came to the door, and near it stood a woman with a severe bowl cut and pleated business suit. His concerns about Taylor were pushed aside as angry spikes clawed at his guts. "Mr. Hebert, please let me-"

"Principal Blackwell," he snapped quietly. "You and I _will_ have words soon. Now is not the time." Danny had never dealt with the woman personally, but he already didn't like the implications. The negotiator in him knew a preemptive action when he saw one, and it was a poorly executed attempt at ass-covering if ever there was one.

The woman's head jerked back as if he had slapped her. "I…" His eyes boiled, and she flinched. "I understand, sir. Please contact me at your earliest convenience." She scuttled away; whatever she had planned to say she chose – wisely – to save for later. He took a deep breath and did his best to force out all the tension in his muscles as he could, and then he opened the door.

**January 3, PRT Los Angeles  
Rebecca Costa-Brown**

There never seemed to be enough time in the day for Rebecca. Between all the meetings, paperwork, and assorted tasks that came with being the Chief Deputy Director of the PRT organization, it was a wonder she got anything done at all. Having perfect memory helped, but she was still only one person. Her schedule was tightly regimented, but not so inflexible that it couldn't change when things came up.

One such example of unexpected interruptions came in the form of an urgent request for conference from Emily Piggot. Her assistant had advised her of a calendar change, which she was looking at now. The subject line read 'Problem with SS5, CC to discuss'. A video file and an audio file were attached, and she played the former first. At first it seemed as if Emily were suggesting that Shadow Stalker had been a victim, possibly of gang violence. The news segment revealed very little, only that there was some sort of incident at the local high school.

She moved on to the other file and listened to radio chatter between two police officers, which turned out to be an agitated exchange over someone named Taylor Hebert, and their search for the girl's father, Danny Hebert.

_"Sarge, the office is saying that he's out on the site somewhere, and he doesn't have a cell phone. They've tried paging him, but nothing so far." _

_ "Then get a patrolman out there yesterday, dispatch. The sooner we un-ass this, the better."_

_"What should they tell him, sir?"_

_"Good god, _lead_ with Panacea, but give him the details. He doesn't deserve to be blindsided by this any more than necessary. Davis said he was pretty sure he spotted the Principal leaving the building."_

_"Copy that, I'm all over it, Sarge."_

Rebecca reached for her phone and pressed the speed dial button for Piggot's direct line. It wasn't difficult to realize what had happened, and she wondered why there wasn't more detail: Emily Piggot was normally thorough as directors went. The line picked up on the second ring. _"Piggot,"_ came the woman's voice. She sounded harried and exhausted.

She settled back into the executive chair. "Emily, I got your message, and I've reviewed the scant bit of information you passed along. What are the details?"

There was a sigh from the other end. _"Earlier this afternoon, Armsmaster was contacted by an unknown cape referring to herself as Quintessence. She alleged that she had a substantial amount of evidence that Sophia Hess has spent the last eighteen-plus months violating her parole." _There was a rattle of keys in the background. _"We met with her about two hours ago, and she wasn't kidding. There's over thirty hours of video, and hundreds of pages. Some of it is Taylor Hebert's personal accounts, but the rest is a shit-pile of emails that still make me angry just thinking about them. Everything's been uploaded to the network share – we're going to need more space."_

An email appeared in Rebecca's inbox, and she opened it to find a link to the files in question. There was a substantially large document labeled , along with hundreds of video files. "Good lord," she said. "Is this legitimate?" If it was, then this was a mess that needed to go away as quickly as possible.

Emily must have scowled, because her voice grew strained ever so slightly. _"Chief Director, there can be no question. Quintessence spent an hour with us to go over some of the more salient points, as well as how to navigate the documentation." _There was a pause. _"Can you tell me what you were doing at…" _she paused again for a moment, as if checking something. _"approximately two ten pm?"_

It was a strange question, given the context of the call. "I was working on a report for the Senate sub-committee on-"

_"Fuck."_

Rebecca frowned at the mouthpiece. "I beg your pardon?" It wasn't unusual to hear the woman swear, but usually it wasn't quite so blatant as that.

Emily growled. _"Apologies, Chief Director. At the beginning of the meeting, Quintessence made it plain that she expected certain results. I wasn't about to be told what to do in my own building, and I started to tell her just that, but she then threatened to bring this directly to you. After that, she opened a portal of some kind with a view directly into your office."_ Rebecca's skin prickled unpleasantly, but she said nothing. Silence drew out for a moment before Emily continued. _"I take it that you were unaware of any sort of observation?"_

Her mind shifted into overdrive. "No, I was not." How long had this cape been around, and had she been spying on the PRT- _her_ for an indeterminate amount of time? The idea that her office – the place where she changed into Alexandria on a regular basis – had been compromised was _unacceptable_. There was little she could do about it at this moment. "Please, continue."

_"After she showed us your office, she changed to the broadcast studio of a local news station. She was perfectly willing to excise all cape-related material regarding Hess to go public with the rest, and frankly, I believe her." _Rebecca scowled at that. It wasn't ideal, but it might have caused more trouble. They needed as many heroes as they could get. "_Before I say anything else, I would direct your attention to video file 003. You can skip the first thirty seconds." _

She clicked on said file and cued the video forward, and watched with bemusement at Sophia Hess' actions, right up until the girl used her powers. "Dare I ask what is in those garbage bags?" Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn't be good.

Emily grimly replied. _"There's more to see six minutes from the end, but it's physical evidence disposal, and its subsequent collection – as professionally as you could hope for, no less. The little shit thinks she got away with it, and says as much." _Her voice matched Rebecca's mood, which had turned sour. _"Video 001 is what happened earlier today."_

She closed the one, and opened the other. Emily sat quietly as she watched with unfolding horror at the teenage girl's fate. "God, what in the hell _is_ that?" Whatever it was had oozed out of the locker as soon as the door had been opened, and it _squelched_ when the girl was shoved in. "Please tell me you have Shadow Stalker."

If Emily's tone had been dark before, it was harder now. _"I'm told that the substance was at least a week's worth of used feminine hygiene products. Given the level of decomp, it was probably there for more than a week." _Rebecca's hand covered her mouth and she shook her head. She had encountered a number of situations over the years that one could refer to as disgusting, but this definitely rated as one of the worse instances. _"Hebert was in there until well past lunchtime. As for _Hess_, I had Armsmaster detain her. She's currently unconscious in one of the isolation cells."_

That was all they needed. "Unconscious, you say? Did she resist?" The Youth Guard would be all over them if they found out, probation status or not.

For the first time since the call began, there was satisfaction in Emily's voice. _"Armsmaster didn't give her the opportunity, on my orders. He may have been a bit liberal with the taser in his glove, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it."_ Rebecca wanted to object, but found it hard to as she moved the slider back to see the look on Sophia's face as she and another girl shoved Taylor Hebert into the locker. _"This is just the worst example. The rest very thoroughly documents everything that's happened to this poor girl for the last year and a half. There are assaults and thefts, verbal and digital torment – all designed to drive Taylor Hebert over the edge."_

She swallowed around an angry lump. "Where is the girl now? What's her condition – do you know?" She was almost afraid to ask – hours in that could potentially kill someone. The media would be in a feeding frenzy over the attempted murder by a Ward, for which a case could easily be made.

_"She was rushed to BB-Gen, and the hospital reached out to call Panacea in from Arcadia shortly afterward. I've just heard back from Miss Militia, who went to quietly check on the situation." _There was a sense of relief that came with the statement. _"There was no direct observation, but the two could be heard speaking, and everything seems calm now. Best guess, Panacea was able to undo the physical damage and is currently waiting with Hebert, at least until the girl's father arrives."_

That last part stood out to her. "Only the father, no mother?" There could be a number of reasons for that.

Emily provided the answer. _"He's a widower; Annette Hebert was killed in an auto accident three years ago."_ Rebecca winced – it seemed like there was nothing but bad and worse luck for the Heberts. _"There's an additional complication, as if this weren't enough. Danny Hebert is the hiring manager and chief negotiator for the local Dockworker's Union."_

That was an understatement. Someone who held those responsibilities was not only likely to be conversant with law to some degree, but would also need to be able to argue convincingly. Rebecca could only hope that perhaps he wasn't good at his job, but she doubted it. "Do you think he knows about Stalker's civilian identity?"

Emily snorted. _"I highly doubt it, but it isn't going to be hard to figure things out if he puts his mind to it. I'd rather head that off at the pass. If it were up to me, I'd throw Hess in a hole and then throw away the hole."_ By which she most likely meant the Birdcage.

An alert chimed on her computer for her next appointment. "One moment, Emily, I'll be right back." She put the line on hold and dialed the extension for the office outside. "Margaret, I need to push everything up by half an hour – this is going to take longer than we thought." She waited just long enough for confirmation, and then switched back to the other call. "Alright, Emily, let's not go completely nuclear. Tell me everything you know about this Quintessence." They were going to have to dance between the wires very carefully on this one.

**November 28, 2010 – The Docks  
Taylor 2**

The previous night had been fun for Taylor. Ben and Wyatt, for all their shenanigans and 'villainy' had turned out to be pretty decent guys. She had to wonder how sad it was that she had an easier time connecting with them than she did people her own age. They had watched a couple of movies and played an old shooter game that still had an online following. Taylor had never heard of Unreal Tournament, but capture the flag was a lot of fun once she got the hang of it. She had especially enjoyed the low-gravity maps with the big buildings.

Eventually, though, the pair had begged off – she might not need to sleep, but they did. They had offered her the couch, but she'd just promised to return the next day around nine o'clock. While they were doing that, she took the time to go back to Sacra Mensa to check on her efforts. The core was building up nicely, and it would be ready for her to start its spin in a couple of days. The ground rattled and growled loudly enough that she heard it from a quarter mile above.

She had turned her attention to the Kuiper Belt and had started to dot the lowlands with massive ice chunks. There was water here, frozen and underground, but it wasn't quite enough to make an ocean. It boggled her mind just how much, and yet how little was required for such a thing. She remembered an old documentary about Earth's ocean. If it had been a sphere next to the world, it would have been a tiny marble. Mars was quite a bit smaller, and would therefore require less, but she still had to import so much.

The other thing that she discovered was that, after a couple of hours spent wrangling ice-teroids through the portals she made, she was actually starting to feel fatigued. It wasn't quite exhaustion, but rather a pressure of heat inside her head. She had no trouble maintaining altitude – she didn't need it to see what she was doing, but it was fun to watch. After a while, though, she decided that maybe she was doing too much again.

Taylor reluctantly returned to the man-cave and waited quietly on the couch, watching the tv at low volume and flipping through the channels restlessly. She resisted the urge to just wind forward to when the boys were up and around, and she decided not to press any other abilities. She could talk with Menny about it later, but she had a suspicion that she knew what the problem was. Something to do with the sheer size of the portals she had been using was her best guess.

After several more hours had gone by, Ben came downstairs in a robe, and he blinked owlishly at her. "Morning, Tay. Have you been here all night?"

She shook her head. "I went and did some more stuff for the colony, but I got a little worn out, so I came back for some quality insomniac-tv-time. I hope you don't mind?" They _had_ offered to let her crash on their couch, after all.

Ben shook his head. "Nah. Me casa and all that. Can you put on some coffee while I clean up?"

She hopped up and moved into the kitchen. "Sure thing!" He trudged to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Taylor scooped some grounds into a filter and filled the machine from the sink nearby. She wasn't much of a coffee drinker, but she had long ago accepted that most people were co-dependent on the stuff.

The kitchen itself really only consisted of a counter with a sink, a refrigerator that looked suspiciously modified, and a large microwave that was obviously on its last legs. There was also a hotplate, but it looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. There was no furniture, and Taylor decided to see about that. She pictured a large, round table made of stained and polished cedar, and willed it into existence. She waited a moment, and was relieved to find no heat or pressure in her head. Apparently opening asteroid-sized portals on the edge of the solar system might be asking too much of herself, but table conjuration was just fine. She created several sturdy chairs and, because she was on a roll, she whipped up enough breakfast to feed the three of them.

She had just started on her second plate of pancakes and crispy bacon when Wyatt shambled into the kitchen. He was wearing a Slayer T-shirt and Guitar Hero pajama pants, and he didn't look altogether awake yet. "Good morning," she said around a mouthful of fluffy goodness. He looked around blearily and wiped sand out of his eyes. "Come to have some breakfast?"

He did a double take between her table of wonder and the doorway to the living room area. "What sorcery is this?" He started to say something else, but was kept from doing so by a wide yawn.

Taylor held up a forkful of syrupy pancakes. "The sugary, fluffy kind. There's bacon, sausage and eggs, too. I can get something else, if you want, though."

Wyatt shuffled over and sat down, and then started filling the plate in front of him. "As opposed to the usual frozen breakfast burrito? Huh-uh, this is great." He picked up a fork and scooped up some eggs, which he practically inhaled and then immediately chased it with a bite of bacon. "Oh my god, Taylor, you're the best new team leader."

Taylor just smiled and took another bite. Ben appeared a few minutes later, rubbing his head with a towel. He stopped short when his nose detected the table, and he dragged the towel out of his face. "Huh. Well, you'll get no argument from me if you wanna keep feeding us." He went to the sink and rinsed out a mug so he could pour some coffee into it, and then he joined them at the table. He took a sip and gave her a considering look over the rim. When he set his mug down, he picked up a piece of bacon. "So, not to be rude, but isn't this a school day?"

Taylor snorted and set down her fork. "Oh, Taylor Zero _is_ in class right now."

"Taylor _Zero?"_ Wyatt asked. He drew breath to speak, and then his eyes narrowed. "Wait, how many 'Taylors' are running around out there? Are you all aware of one another?" Ben contented himself with crunchy chewing.

She had to give the man credit. He might have power troubles, but stupid he wasn't. "Actually, right at this moment in time, it's just me and her, and she has no idea. It's about a month before I got my powers." She paused to reflect. "Today is pencil shavings in the hair day, followed up by a scattering of mean comments, a shove down half a flight of stairs, and exactly twelve shitty emails." The two men looked at one another in confusion, and she filled in the blanks. "Taylor Zero was a prime bullying target. Things will escalate just after New Year's."

Wyatt scowled, and Ben winced sympathetically. "That bad, huh?" He seemed to realize what he was asking. "Sorry, I know most people don't like to talk about their triggers. First-gen?" Taylor nodded. "It's alright, I understand all too well. You want some help getting even?"

Taylor laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, it's not exactly polite breakfast conversation. I might take you up on that, though, thanks." She pushed her plate away, and Wyatt hesitantly looked at his own half-finished meal. She waved him off. "Don't worry about it, eat. We've got more useful things to talk about anyway." She directed a questioning glance at Ben, who shrugged and nodded while he put together a proper plate of food.

Wyatt took her invitation to continue eating, but paused long enough to bring up her suggestion from the night before. "Right, you mentioned something about 'talking' to my power? Like it's alive or something?"

Taylor held up a finger. "Yes, but before we get into that, I want to go over something else first. Ben, you can basically learn any skill, right?" He nodded. "Sourced from books or video, anything will do?"

He nodded again. "I prefer video, but anything written will do in a pinch. Is this for the manual portal thing?"

"That's right," she replied. "I think we need to start by developing some kind of scanner, something that will detect exotic particles and such. How do you feel about becoming a quantum physicist for the next few days?" A laptop appeared on the table a foot away from him at her gesture. "Once we get Wyatt sorted out, he can help build whatever we need, and I can get basically any tools or materials necessary."

Ben eyed the laptop with a raised eyebrow. "I've been asked to do weirder things, I suppose." So, not what he was expecting, but he was willing to go along with it. "I'm curious though, how are we going to pay for things? We can pull in some minions, but labor costs, especially if you want them to keep quiet."

Wyatt paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "I hope you aren't planning to just magic up a bunch of gold to sell or something." Taylor shook her head. "Oh, okay then, you realize that devaluing markets is a bad thing." Nod. "Alright, and I guess we're not robbing banks or something, yeah?"

"That's right," Taylor said brightly. "As much as your show amuses most of us, I want this to be a legitimate operation." When neither of them objected to this, she took a deep breath. "To answer your questions about funding, I'll ask you one of my own: How do you feel about _big _bounty hunting?"

Ben grew nervous, and Wyatt's eyes widened. "What do you mean by 'big'?" Ben asked.

Taylor gauged their mood and wondered if this would be a bridge too far. "We're going to take the Slaughterhouse Nine off the board."

Wyatt's fork clattered onto his plate. Ben, on the other hand, gave her a calculating stare. "Jesus Christ, Taylor, you don't do _anything_ small, do you?"

**November 28, 2010 – Bird City, KS**  
**Jack Slash**

The tiny town burned, and smoke from the fires Burnscar had lit wafted away on the breeze. Jack reclined in a lawn chair in front of someone's abandoned home. The residents had been warned and evacuated ahead of their arrival, but that was often how it went. It still afforded them the opportunity to raid for supplies, and allow a chance for the children to play. It was a shame to disappoint Poppet, but what could he do? It _was_ an unusually long dry-spell, but it couldn't last.

He sipped from a broken glass of tea and flicked a straight-razor open and closed. He pondered their next move, and a sudden chill ran down his spine. He had long ago learned to heed such warnings, and he stood up immediately. "Shatterbird, gather the others – we're leaving." He ignored the squawk of indignation and tossed the jagged glass over his shoulder. "You can work on your tan later, girl. Get to it, now." No, this was not the time to sit idly.

* * *

**A/N – Hey gang! I wanted to apologize for the extra day wait, but I felt like the chapter needed a little extra work. I think you'll all like it better than what I had planned to release yesterday – I know ****_I_**** do.  
I also want to take a minute to address all the reviews, and some of the conjecture/ideas. Thank you so much for all the nice things being said, and for those of you who have left me some much-needed critiquing, and of course, the PO-TAY-TOES! I love the theories! Having said that, there are a few specific items I would like to address. **

* * *

**_Fanboy01: _**_Shards suck._

_Hey hey hey now! Shards don't suck! _**[INDIGNANT]**_ Kidding aside, I'm not quite sure how to take this? _¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

**_Guest:_**_ The previous chapters seemed better. The main problem is you super powered Taylor and then you immediately nerfed her to create an angsty chapter. That's boring. Do one or the other but stick with it. _

I prefer to think of it less as nerfing as biting off more than one can chew. It happens – believe me, I've fallen prey to that on more than one occasion. But, duly noted, ix-nay on the angst-ay. Or something. Mostly. ._.

* * *

**_Guest: _**_Okay you've got me hooked ... but._

_Well, the but is the thing. I really hope you've already thought about a way to explain away Quintessence's interest in the drama. How did she learn about the bullying campaign and what's her motivation in following through so strongly? The answers to these and similar questions need to be rock-solid, or the whole plan will fail, or at least develop some serious cracks._

I can say with certainty that I've thought about it, and have several ideas. [wink]

* * *

**_Guest: _**_A small detail maybe, but shard powers don't work that far in our solar system, so Mars would definitely be out. I love the tone though and had a few chuckles about the Uber & Leet meeting :D_

This has come up in a few places, so I'll point something out: Have you noticed how there are a lot of instances where Taylor/Quintessence leaves her portals open behind her, rather than closing most of them entirely?

* * *

**_Brady420: _**_This is awesome can't wait to see what she does next. Also does she have any tinker powers? Cause if so hope she makes like a iPhone or sun that can hack into just about any system even dragons it'd be so funny having her troll the hell out of people through the internet also she could do a pretty good if not better imitation of coils power I bet._

While Taylor doesn't directly possess Tinker powers, she can give herself almost any ability that she can imagine. It won't work quite the same as certain powers, but, well, stay tuned!

* * *

**_garterscarter: _**_I'm confused. What kind of power does Taylor have exactly?_

I gave away the answer in the first chapter. Look up the name of the book she reads through on the googles! =D

* * *

**_Little Liar: _**_This could be better. _

So could this **_guest_** review, but we can't have everything, now can we?

Okay, maybe that was a little catty. _Meow._ I suppose a better answer would be: Okay, but _how_ can it be better? I don't mind constructive criticism, but if you just dish up a complaint with no salad or dressing or meat and po-ta-toes (boil'em-mash'em-stick'em-inastew), then how am I supposed to digest such a comment? I'm not automatically going to say you're wrong, LL, but ya gotta give me _somethin'! _D=

* * *

_The many, _many _comments about The Twilight Zone reference._

I knew that most people would probably make that connection, and to a lesser degree, it's not wrong. However, there is a much more relevant one. I deeply love the old sci-fi series Farscape, and there is an episode that my title shares a name with. I know I'm probably dating myself with that little tidbit, but I don't give a frell. xD


	10. 2-3 - Delineation

**January 3, 2011 – Brockton Bay General  
Taylor Prime**

Amy snorted with helpless laughter. "Copycat!"

Taylor, not to be outdone, fired off one last salvo. "You're such a name hoarder – I should just call myself Advil: They'd probably sponsor me!" This only made the healer chortle smugly. The door opened just as she was about to retort, and the laughter died down a little. Her dad stood in the doorway, and Taylor was at once relieved and worried. "Hi, dad."

The look on his face was hard to read. He looked angry, but at the same time his eyes brimmed with the unshed tears of joy. "Taylor, thank god you're alright!" He rushed into the room and leaned across the bed to wrap her in a tight hug. "When the police came, I was afraid the worst had happened."

Taylor squeezed him just hard enough to avoid hurting him. "It's okay, dad – it was pretty awful – the worst, really. But Panacea fixed me up." She let go, but he held on to one hand.

He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, but faced Amy. "Thank you, Panacea. The officers told me that you left class early to come help my daughter. I hope it wasn't too much trouble…" He seemed unsure what else to say.

Amy handled it with practiced ease. "It was no trouble, Mr. Hebert. Arcadia has a lot of flexibility when it comes to emergencies, and Taylor's case definitely qualified." When he tilted his head, she nodded. "Right, most of her injuries were superficial. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises mostly, but the infections were severe." She turned to look at Taylor. "All of that's been cleared up, and you're perfectly healthy, physically. I would imagine you'll be fine with some therapy, but the doctor will probably recommend you be kept overnight for observation."

Taylor started to object, but was interrupted by an older man in a white coat. "I'm afraid Panacea is correct," he said. He was a wizened, thin man with round glasses perched on his nose. A metal clipboard rode in one hand, and he walked in with a tired gait. Panacea pulled a rolling stool and pushed it toward him; he hooked it with the inside of one foot and sat with practiced ease while he flipped through the chart. "Well, Miss Hebert, it seems like you've really been through it. I hear you caused a bit of a mess, earlier, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows and grinned to show that he was only teasing.

Taylor was suitably mollified, especially when her dad turned to give her an inquiring glance. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I kind of freaked out," she mumbled. It wasn't her finest hour.

Her father, nonplussed, said, "I'm sure it's perfectly understandable. Was there any serious damage, doctor?"

The elder man waved the question off. "I'm sure one more dent or two in a trashcan or tray will hardly be noticed around here. It is Brockton Bay, after all." He flipped over to the second page on the clipboard and pulled out a pen. "Panacea, I see the injuries you healed, but I don't have the list of infections. I also have some paperwork for you to sign as well, Mr. Hebert."

Amy began to list off the various viruses and bacteria she had picked up in the locker. Many of them were serious, but only a couple of them were life-threatening – or rather, would be to most people. "Thankfully, none of the heps or HIV," she finished. She looked at Taylor for permission, which she nodded slightly. "There was one other thing that didn't make it onto the paperwork, though..."

The doctor leaned back and put his pen away, almost resigned. "I see. A trigger, then?" Her dad looked at her again; worry creased his face when she nodded. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised, given what you've gone through today. Do you know what you can do?"

Taylor squeezed her dad's hand, and he gripped her right back. "I seem to be able to heal people at range." She and Amy had worked out the story between them in the SDZ. "I noticed it while Panacea sat with me; I could feel how tired she was, sort of, smell it, you know? I made it go away."

The doctor's eyebrows rose at that, and he turned to look at the other girl. "Amy, is this true?"

She fidgeted with her hands. "Yeah, it caught me by surprise, but I _do_ feel better," the look she gave Taylor was significant. "Taylor didn't seem to realize what she was doing until she did it. We had a brief conversation about asking for permission first."

The doctor wagged his finger at her, but then pointed it at Amy. "Yes, people come to us to get well, but it's rude to assume anything, even here. And I've told you before, Amy, you work too hard for someone your age." Amy's frown was sullen, like she'd heard the complaint often. "Maybe Taylor here could take some of the work off your hands, that is, if that's what she wants to do – _and_ it's alright with you, Mr. Hebert?"

Danny blinked and shook his head slowly, as if trying to clear it. "Huh? Sorry, I'm just… You have powers?" He frowned. "Of course you have powers," which caused him to scowl for a moment, knowing how she had gotten them. "Maybe we should slow this down for a minute."

The doctor handed the clipboard and pen over to the other man. "Of course, Mr. Hebert, take your time." He leaned over and tapped the back of his fingers on Amy's knee. "Why don't we give them some privacy, Amy, and come back in ten or fifteen minutes." They both stood up and quietly left the room.

The silence loomed for a minute or so, but her dad filled it by dropping the paperwork on the bed and hugging her fiercely. "I'm glad you're okay, Taylor. I'm also mad as shit that this happened to you in the first place." He paused and rested his cheek on top of her head, and Taylor realized how much she had missed this in the last few years. Eventually they broke apart. "So," he began, "you're a healer now?"

Taylor ducked her head. "There's a bit more to it than that, but it'll take a while to explain – not that anyone around here will notice if we do." She lifted up her hand and held it out to him.

One eyebrow went up past the rim of his glasses. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to be happy about this?" Taylor shook her hand at him, and with a snort, he grasped it. The hospital room vanished and was replaced with the cozy study she and Amy had left behind. They were sitting on the couch, and the change of locale didn't shock him. Menny, on the other hand, startled him from where it lay on the coffee table when it sat up and barked cheerily. "Gah!"

Taylor giggled and scooped up the ferret. "This is Menny, dad; he says 'hi'."

Her father eyed the ferret suspiciously, and then looked at her with confusion etched into his features. "Okay, so your power is making rooms with ferrets, but you can heal?" His shoulders sagged down a hair. "Help your old man out, sweetheart. I'm a bit lost – your mother kept up with this sort of thing more than I did." No sooner had he said that than a flash of pain rolled across his face, and it was mirrored on hers.

Taylor settled Menny onto her shoulder, and she dragged the heavy book that sat on the table closer. "This will help explain things, I hope." He brushed a hand across the cover, and then flipped it open.

He scanned the first two pages while she gave Menny head-pats. "What do the different colors mean?" he asked. She leaned forward and paged to the end of the table of contents and pointed at the legend. "Oh, huh. I'm not sure if that's very helpful: This almost makes it sound like a computer."

She gestured at the left side of the book. "I'll try to explain that in a minute, dad."

He flipped back to the beginning and started over. "So you can create abilities, which seems a bit much already – what more do you need after _that?_" She shrugged, and he kept reading. "No absolutes, administrative lock - pending explanation… Altered Physics. Cartoon Physics?" His voice grew ever-more incredulous as he kept going. He turned the page and didn't get very far when he paused, and his complexion paled. "Taylor," he said, quietly.

She knew what had tripped him up, but asked politely anyway. "Yes, dad?"

He looked at her with his serious dad face. "Please do not induce death or destroy things, okay?"

She grinned and Menny chittered. "Of course not. All of these other abilities pretty much make it unnecessary, anyway." She leaned over and pointed to the last entry on the fourth page. "Imagination Manifestation seems to be the root of my power. All these other things are just a way to facilitate some of the wilder things I could think of."

Danny flopped back into the couch cushions. "You're going to have to be _extremely_ careful." His tone confused her, because it was somewhere between appalled and despairing. "You don't want to hurt yourself or anyone else."

That was a relief to hear him say. "Oh, I already thought of that. Menny and I set it up so I wouldn't make a mess of reality on accident."

He leaned forward a little and looked at the ferret, which stretched its neck out and snuffled the air in his direction. "The f- Menny? What does he have to do with this?"

She held out her arm, and Menny obligingly crawled down it and onto the table. "Menny – short for Mentifery – is the anthropomorphic expression of my power. Powers are… intelligent, multidimensional creatures that plug into certain people's brains somehow." She shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't quite figured out everything, but that much I know for sure. Anyway, he and I worked out a system where extreme things need confirmation."

Danny held his fingers out to the creature, and jumped a little when Menny nuzzled his whiskers against them. "I'm relieved to hear you've thought about this – even though I have no idea how you've managed to do it all in less than a day-" Taylor smiled softly, but didn't interrupt. "But that isn't what I was talking about, not completely." He sighed and tapped the book. "You know the old adage, absolute power corrupts absolutely. This is the very definition of that."

Taylor leaned against him, and his arm rested around her shoulders. "I know, dad. It's scary to think I could do anything I wanted to." She thought about the things she had done already and decided that it might be best to lay it all out. "I think I've been pretty restrained so far; the girls that shoved me in the locker, for instance."

He looked at her sharply, and she waved her hands back and forth. "Nothing bad, I promise!" She then spent several minutes explaining all the crap she'd put up with, and her solution. She took him through every step, and even helpfully showed him which powers she used. She left nothing out, even Sophia's cape identity: There would be no more secrets in the Hebert 'household'. Her dad turned a deep shade of red upon hearing _that_ revelation.

By the time she finished, his anger had cooled into a sort of smug satisfaction. "Sweet Christ, Taylor, you're definitely your mother's daughter. I don't think I could have endured that without hitting a breaking point long before now." He shook his head. "My daughter, the demi-goddess – look out world!"

Taylor looked up at the ceiling and moaned. "Daaaad!"

He elbowed her lightly in the ribs. "You think I'm kidding. Just wait until people start setting up shrines and temples. The next thing you know, they'll be pestering you with every little prayer, and then-oof!"

Taylor pushed up against him. "Oh my Me, stop it, that's terrible!" She couldn't help herself from breaking into a fit of giggles at his chortling. "I'm not omnipresent, and there's no way in hell I'm telling anyone else what all I can do. It would be a disaster of alpha and omega proportions!" Menny, not to be left out, began rolling on the table as he chittered.

They both broke out into wild laughter, and eventually it settled down. He took off his glasses and wiped the corners of his eyes. "So is that why you and Panacea cooked up this whole healing gimmick?" She felt abashed at how transparent her plan was to him, and he gave her a knowing smirk. "Call it Dad Powers. So fess up, why do it at all?"

Taylor stood up and stretched, and then looked around. "I was sort of telling the truth when I said I healed her. She's in really, _really_ bad shape, dad." She started pacing back and forth. "I tried to help her, and I almost screwed it up so badly that it would have been better not to do anything at all." She came to a standstill and looked around again. "We were in here for days with me resetting and trying different things." He looked at her with wide eyes. "I wasn't about to be responsible for breaking the world's greatest healer, so…" She shrugged. "I think we finally got it resolved, at least somewhat. Me taking turns at the hospital seemed like a good compromise." She hoped it would be, anyway. Taylor had no idea if Amy would be willing to help her plans, but she didn't know where else to start that wouldn't end up an unmitigated disaster, and running through thousands of permutations would only confuse things further.

Danny relaxed, but gave her a reproachful look. "This is exactly what I was talking about before." He turned his attention to the ferret. "Menny, you need to do a better job looking out for my daughter." The furry creature covered his eyes and dooked in a way that made it seem subdued. He sighed again. "I know it might sound like I'm being overprotective, but what if people do learn about you?" He thumped the open book with a knuckle. "Just because you have the apparent mother of all powers doesn't mean that the gangs won't come after you."

Taylor brightened at that. "Oh, that's easy, dad. Turn to page five." He did so, and snorted. "I can even prove it, too – look!" She pointed up above her head, and a massive anvil twice her size appeared. He gasped and jumped up as it began to fall, and jerked when it bounced off her head with a dull clang.

"Taylor Ann Hebert! Don't _do_ things like that without more warning!" He rushed up to her and began to check her for injuries. Her laughter, albeit embarrassed, caused his scowl to deepen. He crossed his arms, and she subsided, but there was still a grin on her face. "You're really okay – it's not some sort of trick?" He looked at the anvil, which had landed on the floor a few feet away. He took a step toward it, and then pushed one foot against the side in an effort to move it. "How much does this thing weigh, for God's sake?" It didn't budge an inch.

Taylor shrugged and came to stand next to him. "Sixteen tons is what I imagined, but that was just to demonstrate. I don't even have to get into it with anyone if I don't want to." She stuck out her tongue. "I can flash messages back in time to myself, and then manipulate events so that nothing ever works out for villains or their mooks." She was quite pleased with that particular solution.

Danny took a deep breath. "I think maybe it might be a good idea to go take another look at that book again. Do we even have time for this? It's been about fifteen minutes."

Taylor nodded. "Yes to both – time doesn't matter here. It's come in _really_ handy the last few 'days'."

Her dad pulled up short on his way back to the couch. "What do you mean…" He paled and sagged. "What _else_ have you been doing?"

Taylor gave him a gentle push. "There's good news and bad. Do you want that first, or the book?"

He let her guide him back to the couch, but he began to massage his temples. "Let's look at the book. I think I need a minute to digest all of this before any news."


	11. 2-4 - Delineation

**Sub-Dimension Zero  
Danny**

The book lay open on the table in front of Danny, and he stared at it sightlessly. Objectively he understood what Taylor was capable of, some things she had even demonstrated for him. Subjectively, however, _that_ he was having trouble with; nothing in his life had prepared him to deal with the reality of having a child with superpowers. Never mind the bombshell she had dropped on him moments ago.

He understood that Taylor had tried her best to break it to him gently; that he wasn't in a full panic led him to believe that she was marginally successful in that regard. "Well… Crap." He was even less prepared to deal with the news of impending apocalypse. "Do you know how it happens?" He should have asked for the good news first.

Taylor shook her head in frustration. "I don't – just the when and what. I can't see it, and I've tried everything I can think of." She looked down at her lap. "It's almost like I'm being blocked, and I'm not sure what scares me more – that or the fact that I don't know how to stop it." She held up her hands to stare at them. A lump formed in his throat, and he knelt down in front of her so that he could take hold of them. "I have to try, though, right? I got these powers for a reason."

Even though his heart was breaking, his paternal instincts drove his words. "Taylor, look at me." Her gaze turned upward, and her eyes were full of turmoil. "I think – no, I _know_ that you wouldn't be the little girl we raised if you didn't. But honey, nothing lasts forever." He shook his head when she started to reply. "I'm not suggesting that you shouldn't do it, and I'll help you any way I can, but this is too big to handle alone. The Protectorate-"

"Cannot be trusted," she said with conviction. "There might be a lot I don't know, but that much I'm sure of." The statement crawled through his insides like angry snakes. "Most of them are good people, but… There are flaws and corruption."

Danny sighed and nudged the ferret to the side so he could sit on the table. "Alright, that's not really something I wanted to hear, but I'm not surprised." He was old enough to have seen how any system was prone to decay. "But surely the government heroes aren't the only people that could help. We need allies, and a plan."

Her expression turned hopeful. "We?"

Danny nodded. "I may not be able to move mountains or stop time, but we're in this together, Taylor." She flung herself into his arms, and he held her tightly. "I know I haven't been the best dad, lately, but I'm here now. There has to be something we can do."

Taylor relaxed. "Thanks, dad, it means a lot. And you're right – there _is_ something we can do, and I've already started." She pulled away and slid back onto the couch. "I even got a couple of people to start helping, but you might not like it..."

He rolled his shoulders and steeled his nerves. "I don't like any of this, but if I had a nickel for every time that happened, we would be filthy rich. I should have known you wouldn't sit idly by for long." He shook his head and leaned forward to put his forearms on his knees. "Alright, give it to me straight."

Taylor began with what she had done in Newfoundland. At first he disapproved of her 'seed' gathering, until she explained what she had done for the people nearby. "Wait a minute," he interjected. "I remember hearing about that – those people that all just appeared from nowhere in cities across Canada. It was a big mystery at the time; people thought it was some cape that perished when the island sank – that was _you?_" When she confirmed it with a sober nod, a frisson swept across his skin. "My God…" He stared at her in awe. "That was a _lot_ of people you saved, Taylor."

She smiled sadly. "I know. I could have – _should have – _done more-"

Danny cut her off. "No, don't do that to yourself. I know you can wind time back and forth and do all of these amazing things, but don't torment yourself – you did what you could, and a small city's-worth of people are safe because of it." She frowned, but didn't argue. "I understand that you salvaged the metal to sell – to whom?"

Taylor's expression grew reticent, but she nodded. "Yeah, and this is the part you probably won't like." She drew a breath and braced herself. "I decided to go to Über and Leet."

He raised one eyebrow in surprise. "You went to those clowns? What on earth for?" He wasn't terribly familiar with the duo beyond the stories he had heard. They were troublemakers, at best, and petty criminals to boot. While it was true that their 'games' rarely hurt anyone physically, there was still occasional damage of the collateral variety. Not only that, but half of the time they were bad at it – usually due to Leet's mechanical failures.

Taylor shrugged and tucked her ankle underneath her other leg. "They're not bad guys – decent, even. I came to the same conclusion that you did."

He tipped his head sideways in agreement. "Okay, I suppose there are worse people you could have gone to." He waved a hand for her to continue.

"So I sold them the rhodium – they even offered to pay twice what I asked for, in return for a hand in one or two of their capers." She rolled her eyes and snorted. "I wasn't about to embark on a life of crime, so I asked them to help with my project instead. They didn't take much convincing," she finished smugly.

Danny pulled back and frowned. "Just like that?"

Taylor's lips stretched up into a wry, half-grin. "You'd be surprised how amenable people are when you show them, you know, the Big Boom. Hell, they even decided to unmask afterward."

Danny winced sympathetically. "Yeah, that'd do it. But what do you need them for, exactly?"

In response, she started to wave her arm at the air to her right, and then paused. "I need to open a portal to the project site." She gave him a questioning look, and he gave her an approving nod. She gestured, and the air distorted to reveal a russet, barren landscape. "This is Plan B."

He stood up when she did and followed her over to stand a few feet in front of it. The terrain was rocky and seemingly inhospitable. "It looks a little like the Sonoran Desert – is that where this is?"

Taylor chuckled and shook her head, and then linked her arm with his. "Not exactly," she said cryptically. He allowed her to pull him through the opening, and felt the temperature drop a few degrees. It was slightly warmer than a mild winter's day in the Bay. He looked around with interest, noting that the portal remained open behind them. "Welcome to Mars."

He jolted at the revelation. "What? How are we-" He stopped himself. "You're using your power to keep us from choking and boiling to death."

"Sort of," she said. "Atmospheric pressure is still too low, and the same for O2, but I've been working on that." He stared at her, dumbfounded. "I fixed the magnetosphere by converting the core into a mostly nickel-iron mix, with some heavier elements thrown in. You missed out on the low-grav fun, but on the plus side, no bone or muscle atrophy!"

Danny looked up at the sky, which was a dull brown. He vaguely recalled his science lessons in school, but not enough to remember more than the barest of details. There had been talk of colonizing the red planet one day, but The Simurgh had changed all of that. "Christ almighty, Taylor. This is…"

"Insane?" she suggested with a light tone.

He let out a puff of air. "Using your power to re-engineer a dead planet? No, I can't imagine how anyone would see that as anything but totally bonkers." She snickered, and he shot her a sardonic grin. "That's one hell of a contingency plan. Where are you getting the gases from?"

She led him a short distance away, which ended near a steep drop. There was no need to point out what she wanted him to see. Some distance out another portal stood at an angle. The ground in front of it was being whipped into a dust storm that stretched for miles. "I started by releasing what CO2 I could from the soil, but it wasn't enough, so I had to improvise by taking it from Venus."

He gaped and stared at the swirling mass. "That thing has to be, what, a mile high?" The scale was hard to judge, but the top of it was nearly level with them at the top of the cliff. "How long have you been at this?"

Taylor kicked a stone off the edge of the cliff, and it sailed out to join its brethren below. "About a month or so," she said. He fixed her with a stare, but before he could ask, she pointed at herself. "Time traveling imagineer."

He put a hand on her shoulder, pride swelling within. "Not bad, Taylor, not bad at all." He couldn't find it in himself to chastise her for jumping in with both feet. This might all seem like madness, but that was the world they lived in. "I know it sounds redundant, but anything I can do to help…"

She favored him with a smile of gratitude. "Actually, there _is_ something you can do – you and any of the dockworkers that can keep a secret, too." She turned around and he followed suit. Half a dozen yards away, a table stood, littered with papers and blueprints. They made their way over to it, and when he was close enough, he could see that the designs were for a structure of some sort.

"In a few more weeks, the surface will be habitable without my help," she waved a hand around them, and then patted the larger blueprint. "I looked into self-sustaining habitats, and the smart thing seems to be arcologies. This is just one design, but I think it's a good start. And before you ask, I could just make it myself, but there's a lot that I could get wrong."

He leaned against the table and traced his fingers across the large sheet, tracing the lines. It was very basic, but he could see smaller schematics with more detail that peeked out from beneath the edges of the larger draft. "This is very impressive, Taylor, but it would take years to build with conventional means."

She indicated various points on the drawing. "I can handle the frame of the superstructure," she pulled several sheets of paper out and set them on top of it. "It's things like electrical and plumbing that get tricky. I can do it, but you're right – more people would be very helpful." She stood up straight, while he remained bent to pore over the pages. "What do you think, dad? It would provide a lot of jobs – I know there's a lot of struggle to do that back home right now."

He nodded slowly at the sad truth of that statement. Lord knew he did his best, but there never seemed to be enough work to go around. He looked over at her with a grin. "I doubt that anyone would say no to something like _this._" He certainly wouldn't, but there was a concern. "Where would the money come from?" The look on her face made his heart sink. "Out with it."

When he heard the simple statement that came from his daughter's mouth, Danny Hebert nearly fainted.

**December 19, 2010 – Gemini Observatory  
Madeline**

The coffee pot gurgled, and Madeline Chase checked her watch, which read just after three in the morning. It would be another fifteen minutes until her window, so she stretched her arms over her head and tilted her head back with a groan. It had taken her months to book the time tonight, and she would be damned if she was going to miss it. She stood up and dragged her mug off the desk as she went to replenish her supply of caffeine.

A yawn snuck up and clobbered her face so hard that she had to stop walking in order to fend it off. "Sleep gnomes, begone! I banish thee with the beans of Java," she grumbled. There was another hour for her work to be done: Forty-eight minutes to get her images, another ten to process them, and then a dozen more to download them, and then she could call it a night.

She eyed the lumpy couch as she stirred creamer into the steaming beverage and weighed the merits and flaws of a cat nap on the deliberately uncomfortable, ugly beast. She was too tired to make her way back down to her tiny apartment, but the Thing Against the Wall was sure to give her spine a less-than friendly curve if she gave in to the temptation.

"The things I do for my thesis," she groused, and she slurped from the nectar of the gods while she shambled back to the desk with its antiquated computers. She dragged the keyboard over and started to enter the first sequence of her program, the basis of her doctoral paper – something for which she was extremely hopeful and proud.

The Gemini wasn't meant to be used like this, but she had come up with a way to take advantage of the Mercury transit. It had taken her over a year to convince the Board to allow her to attach a set of optical mirrors that would let her change the focus. It had been a hard sell, and the only reason she had managed it was thanks to an anonymous benefactor – with a generous donation to the National Science Foundation. She suspected that there was a great deal more going on behind the scenes, but she didn't care. Her experiment, and nearly seven years of work, was about to pay off. She hoped.

The keys ratcheted as her fingers danced across them, and Madeline paused every so often to scratch things in her notebook. Finally there was nothing to do but wait, and her fingers hovered over the enter key as she stared at the second hand of her watch as it tick-tick-ticked away. At 3:21, she tapped the key and sat back as the motors hummed to life, and she glanced between the three monitors in weary anticipation.

A few minutes into Mercury's transit, she leaned forward and stared at the readings from the infrared imager. "Wait a minute, that can't be right." She rolled the chair over to the console and keyed in a sequence. The results were even more baffling, so she repeated the process, only to get the same result. "Huh? Maybe I'm remembering it wrong." She scooted back over to where her laptop sat and a quick search, confirmed that she hadn't been wrong. She glared at the imager console and then looked at the integral field spectrograph output with suspicion.

Madeline was not about to see her thesis go up in smoke, so she ran a diagnostic on her module, and everything came back in the green. "What the hippity-hoppety shit is going on?" She was growing paranoid by this point, and so she checked everything a fourth time. When she got the same thing, her shoulders sagged and she grunted. "Bullshit."

After a few minutes of frustrated contemplation, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number. The line rang several times before a fuzzy-sounding voice answered. _"Umph. Someone better be dead,"_ the man mumbled.

"Marty, wake up!" She was doing her best not to sound hysterical, but she wasn't doing a very good job. Martin Rand was someone she had consulted with several times over the duration of her project, and she needed his help right away. "How soon can you get linked up to Odyssey?"

There was a muffled rustle of blankets. _"For f- do you have any idea what time it is, Maddie? I was having a really great dream about-" _

"Let me stop you right there," she scowled. She did _not_ want to hear about whatever fantasy her call had interrupted. "I'm getting some bizarre readings from the instruments. I need confirmation, and I don't have time for your wet dreams."

Martin growled something of dubious charity, and she resisted the urge to strangle her phone. _"Fine, what's so damned important that you had to wake me up at six in the morning?" _

She pushed away from the desk and began to pace back and forth, eyeing the equipment as she did so. "The albedo is _way_ off, Marty – I think we need to take a look with the MARIE. I've checked everything out a few times now, and I don't think it's a malfunction."

There was a patient sigh from the man. _"You realize it's probably just one of the big dust storms, right? How much is it off by?" _

"Forty. Three. Percent."

Martin immediately sounded less sleepy. _"Say that again?"_ Madeline repeated herself. _"No way, that can't be right."_

She coughed and shook her finger accusingly at the computers. "I'm telling you, there is something going on up there. You might want to get your ass to an uplink terminal sooner rather than later." She winced at the hardness of her voice. "Sorry, Marty, I might be a little sleep deprived."

He didn't reply for a minute, and she pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call was still connected. _"So you decided to spread the joy, huh?"_

"Bite me. Will you do it or not?"

Martin snorted. _"Fine, you owe me a beer – no, _several_ beers. I'll call you back in forty." _

She grimaced with good-nature. "Thanks, Marty. I'll get you a whole case, if this checks out." He hung up without replying. Madeline snapped the phone shut and sat down with an unceremonious flop. Her thesis might be saved yet. "What the hell is going on with you, Mars?"


	12. 2-5 - Delineation

**January 5, 2011 - Winslow High**

**Emma**

The bell for the end of First Period rang, and Emma collected her books into the crook of one arm. While she filed out of the room along with the other students, she pulled out her cell phone so she could check it for messages. There were two, and she opened them hopefully – she scowled that there were none from Sophia, who hadn't replied to her since the night before. She thumbed the bubble over Madison's contact and read the response there.

_[Emma:] Have you heard from Sophia? She didn't come to school today_.

_ [Mads:] Not since we left yesterday._

_ [Mads:] Maybe she's home, sick w/something?_

Emma tapped out a curt response and stuffed it back into her pocket. She doubted very much that was the case, because Sophia rarely got sick. She eyed the hallway that held Taylor's locker with smug satisfaction. The corridor had been reopened, though the immediate vicinity of her locker was still cordoned off. Very few students used it, and then only because they had no choice in the matter. The stench, which had been appalling yesterday, still lingered, not unlike a certain someone they all knew.

None of them had expected it to work so well. In fact, it had worked _too_ well; the cops had shown up right behind the EMT's, who had rushed Taylor to the hospital. Emma didn't see what the big deal was. Sure, she'd gotten filthy, and maybe a little bruised and scraped, but honestly, how bad could it have been? Taylor had gone catatonic, which was hardly the reaction she had hoped for – the screaming and crying had been the first real reaction she'd given them in months.

The police had begun to ask questions, so she had reluctantly told Madison to delete the video, just in case. Nobody would be able to prove anything, and she hadn't seen anyone else recording. They certainly weren't going to talk – she and Sophia had seen to that. Being popular did have some benefits, after all.

Emma nearly abandoned that line of thought in favor of planning a route to Sophia's after school let out. That occupied her until she saw Danny Hebert in the hallway near the front entrance. He was nearly as pathetic as his daughter – it must have been genetic. Her father had needed to talk sense into the man about his neglect after Taylor's mother had died. Personally she thought it was a huge waste of time, but they had been friends for most of their adult lives. He was lucky to have such a good friend, really.

It wasn't difficult to figure out why he was there: Taylor being whisked away to the hospital to take care of a few boo-boos made his appearance inevitable. Emma wasn't worried, though. Even if Taylor had seen who had pushed her into the locker, it was her word against theirs. He wouldn't be able to do anything substantial. At most, he _might_ get hospital bills covered – and he would certainly need it. His job at the Dockworker's Union didn't pay well. Too many years of being friends with Taylor had demonstrated that, especially after An- the mother died.

Emma made no attempt to speak to him, and he didn't appear to notice her, which was just fine by her. By the time she turned the corner, he had already disappeared into the school's office. Let him rage and be pathetic – he wasn't worth her time or her worry.

What Emma missed, however, was her father's arrival, and he followed his old friend into the office. Almost immediately behind him trailed Mrs. Clements.

**January 4, 2011 – BBPD, 3****rd**** Precinct**

**Detective Lozano**

The photos were scattered across Markus' desk, and he was sick of looking at them. In all his fourteen years as a detective (and six years as a patrolman before that) he wasn't sure if he'd come across anything quite so grisly. That was saying a lot, when one factored Brockton Bay and its cape situation into that equation. He had been around for Marquise, the Teeth, and the Slaughterhouse Nine, and he'd seen his fair share of gore.

When they first caught the case, he had assumed it was gang violence, and while he wasn't about to rule that out, it seemed less likely as he read through the CSI report. "Christ, this is bad," he muttered. There wasn't really any other way to put it. To see teenagers do this kind of thing had been shocking, even for him.

His partner, Tommy Zimmerman, grunted. "What do you expect, man? Kids can be cruel." He gave his partner a noncommittal shrug and set aside the folder and picked up another – interviews, which amounted to _'I didn't see shit!'_ – which was the _only _about this whole situation that wasn't a surprise. Gangbanger kids rarely talked, and the rest were either too scared or too stupid – or guilty – to give them anything.

The Hebert girl, by all accounts, was a troubled loner: By all accounts, she had bad grades, no friends to speak of, and only one surviving parent. Markus knew of Danny Hebert by reputation, the go-to man for the DWU. He wasn't always well-liked in the Mayor's office, but he had heard enough to know that the man was respected. Rumor also had it he also had one hell of a temper, though if that were true then he must have kept it on a tight leash; apart from a night in holding for a barroom brawl from almost two decades ago, Hebert's record was clean.

Wade, the trusty file clerk (who got roped into being the mailman/coffee/all-purpose gopher) tapped on the door, and Markus waved him in. "Is that my prelim tox report, Len?" he asked, pointing to the folder the younger man carried.

"Yes indeedy, sir," he replied. "It must be a real shit-show, if Doc Tomlin's face was anything to go by. Do I even want to know?" The folder changed hands, and Markus shook his head gravely. "Didn't think so. Wanna go burn one real quick?"

He glanced at his watch and tossed the manila folder down. "Sure, why not?" He and Tommy had been at this all afternoon. He pulled the pack he left in his desk drawer out and stood up, pausing just long enough to grab his battered coffee mug.

"Those things will kill you, one of these days," Tommy quipped. "I thought you were quitting."

He tossed his retort over one shoulder as he followed Leonard out of the office. "Before the gangs or the villains manage it? Sign me the hell up." He caught a snort at the running joke of the precinct, and the two paused at the break room long enough for him to get a refill before heading outside. Markus liked Len, because the man refused to talk about work on the smoke pad. Instead, he was regaled with the latest Earth Aleph film nonsense. It was refreshing to get ten minutes without the worst Brockton Bay served up on a daily basis. He'd even made time to watch a few of the flicks on off-duty nights, and some of them were even tolerably entertaining.

Sadly, ten minutes went by quickly, and he was back to the grind. They worked on trying to narrow the suspect pool, which was felt like an exercise in futility. It wasn't until nearly quitting time that he got a phone call that he hadn't been expecting. When he hung up, he checked the time and waited for his partner to come back from a trip to the head. "Tommy, you've got your kid's recital tonight, right?"

Tommy nodded. "I can skip it if you need me to. What's up?"

He dismissed the offer with a shake of his head. "I just got off the phone with Danny Hebert, who had some interesting stuff to say. He wanted to see if we were available to do an in-home interview this evening." Tommy did a double-take, but didn't say anything. "Supposedly he's got video of the incident at the school yesterday, won't say how he got it, though."

Tommy sat up straighter and leaned forward with interest. "Oh-ho, the plot thickens. You sure you don't want me to ride along?"

"Nah, it's no big. Jenny's only five once, y'know? I can handle it – not like I've got any fancy plans, anyway." Which was depressingly true. _Christ, _he thought, _I need to get out more._ "Go on, be there for her. I'll fill you in tomorrow."

**Later That Evening – Hebert Residence**

**Danny**

By the time he had gotten home from visiting Taylor, Danny was starting to feel a little better. He loved her more than his own life, but it had taken everything he'd had to not shake her by the shoulders until her eyeballs fell out. After extracting a promise to put certain… activities on hold, he had tacitly approved of her 'masquerade' at the hospital. The doctor was elated, and Panacea seemed relieved to just ride along to validate Taylor's healing.

They had even taken advantage of her impromptu change of clothing – hospital scrubs had been augmented by a surgical mask and head-cap. He wasn't sure where the odd surgeon's gown –referred to as a 'Howie' – had come from, but the he suspected that she'd just created it out of thin air and let people assume that they had 'found' one.

It worried him greatly that she seemed so blasé about what she'd been through. A quiet word with both the doctor and Panacea wasn't very reassuring, but it did serve as a distraction. Taylor had been less than thrilled with the idea of staying in the hospital, but he had talked her into it, as much as he didn't want to. It was a safe environment – as safe as one could get anywhere in Brockton Bay, anyway. If she did have a breakdown, there were trained professionals on hand to help her better than he could. Then again, with all the power she had now, he wasn't convinced that there was _anyone_ qualified.

Taylor, in the meantime, had gotten a compromise out of him, and so that was what he was waiting for in his living room. Alan had been surprised to get his phone call, but had readily agreed to come over after work. He had even decided to come early, especially after he heard what had happened to Taylor. It troubled him that he hadn't heard about it from Emma, but Danny had been forced to play dumb. He owed it to trust his little girl on it.

The first knock at the door turned out to be the Detective he had called earlier that afternoon. "Mister Hebert," the man greeted him politely. He was a bit younger than Danny, but the lines on his face and the salt and pepper moustache told a different story. "Thank you for reaching out to me. I have to say, I wasn't expecting it this soon, but gift-horses and all that."

They shook hands. "I wasn't sure what to expect yesterday. Please, come in." He started to close the door, and then held it open. "Ah, here's Alan pulling up now." The light green sedan cruised up to the curb, and the horn honked twice, and Danny waved. The detective looked past his shoulder, and he half-turned to explain. "He's a family friend, and I asked him to come because he's got some relevance. I hope you don't mind, Detective."

The man shrugged. "Suits me – the more, the merrier." He frowned. "Okay, maybe not merrier, but useful, at any rate."

Danny nodded absently as Alan made his way up the sidewalk. "Danny, hey! " he called as he stepped onto the porch. "I'll tell you what, there's no way this is going to fly." His eyes flashed darkly as they traded grips, but they grew curious upon seeing that they were not alone.

Danny stood back so his old friend could come in, and then he led them into the living room. "Alan, this is Detective Lozano. Detective, this is-"

"Alan Barnes," he cut in, giving the other man a cool nod. "We've met." He gave Danny a look before turning his attention back to the other man. "Are you here to advise Mr. Hebert as an officer of the court, sir?"

Alan was perplexed, but shrugged it off quickly. "No, detective, I'm here to offer support and advise him as his friend. Besides, I'm a divorce lawyer – you know that. The most I could do right now is give him a referral – which I damned sure will do – but first, Danny, how is Taylor doing?"

Danny rubbed his forehead and led them into the living room. "Given what she's been through, better than I would have hoped. Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Would either of you care for something to drink – coffee, or water? Something stronger?"

The detective took one of the kitchen chairs that he had dragged into the room, which were arranged in front of the coffee table. He had moved it away from the couch so that it sat across the open space. "None for me, thank you." He pointed at the laptop that sat in front of them, open to a blank video player. "I take it you've got something to show us," he said, giving Alan a guarded look.

The other man took the chair farthest from the detective slowly. "I… Do I need something stronger, Dan?" He, too, eyed the laptop as if it were a coiled snake. "What's going on here?"

Danny had retrieved a very dusty bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. "I'm sorry to say that it isn't pretty, Alan." He didn't drink often, but after he'd seen the video that he was about to show them, he'd already had one round. He measured out two fingers into each glass, and Alan accepted one. "Now, Alan, before we start, I want to stress that I'm absolutely positive that you had no idea. I'm sorry as hell to spring this on you, but… Well, you'll see in a minute."

Alan set his drink down on the table with a loud clack and stood up. "Now see here, Danny Hebert, I won't-"

Danny's voice came out so harshly that the Detective tensed. "Alan, as your _friend:_ Sit Your Ass Down and have the god damned drink." For a moment, Danny was sure that he was going to storm out, but instead he closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, and did as he was told. "Good. I apologize for being an asshole just now, but you really need to see this."

Alan's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Alright then, let's get on with it."

As Danny bent down to reach the laptop, the detective interrupted him. "So, just to be clear, what is this you're showing us, Mr. Hebert?"

"This is video of the incident that happened to my daughter." He pressed the play button, took his drink, and downed it. He damned-near broke the glass upon hearing Taylor's muffled screams, the other children's laughter, and finally he could take no more. When the clip ended, Alan sat and stared at the screen, mute and looking haunted.

The detective, on the other hand, went straight in. "Well, that's pretty clear. Can you identify the two girls who assaulted your daughter, Mr. Hebert?" The tone of his voice betrayed the fact that he knew at least part of the answer, but he held his notepad and pen up dutifully.

Danny had set the glass aside to avoid temptation to fill it again. "The young black woman, I'm told, is named Sophia Hess. The girl behind them, the blonde recording it with her cell phone, is Madison Clements." He paused and gave his friend a sympathetic look. "The redhead is Emma Barnes."

Alan, upon hearing his name, snapped back from wherever his mind had taken him. "Danny, I…" he seemed to be at war with himself. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to say. I swear, I had no idea." He put his head in his hands and then he let them drop into his lap. "I knew it had been a while since we'd seen Taylor, but Emma shrugged it off when her mother asked, and I just assumed they'd grown apart." He shook his head. "There has to be _some_ explanation for this. I can't fathom what, though."

Detective Lozano scratched his pen across his notebook. "This is open and shut. Can you tell me where the video came from?" he asked. "It's a pro job – almost too good, in fact."

Danny shook his head. "I'm sorry Detective, I can't say. I know it isn't against the law, being filmed in the hallway of a public school." That had been something he had taken the time to determine on his own. He looked to Alan for confirmation, and he nodded with resignation.

The detective shrugged and flipped his notebook closed. "You're correct, of course." He stood up and pointed at the laptop. "I'm afraid I will have to ask for a copy of it."

Danny moved to retrieve the laptop, but Alan put a hand on his arm. "Wait a minute, there must be something-"

"Mr. Barnes, this is textbook assault, false-imprisonment, and I know a very enthusiastic DA who will probably be inclined to file attempted murder charges." Danny winced at the way those last three words grated out. From the way Alan paled, he felt a little sick to hear it. "Based on what was in that locker, I don't see how it could be construed as anything other than that. I suggest you stop talking and start looking for a lawyer to represent your daughter."

Alan's demeanor became that of a defeated man, and Danny felt a pang of sympathy. As a father, he wouldn't wish this on any parent. He regarded his oldest friend, and decided then and there to accept Taylor's second suggestion. She had left it entirely in his hands, citing bigger concerns. "Detective," he began with a meaningful glance, "now that you've seen it, I would like to make a request on Taylor's behalf."

The younger man quirked an eyebrow, but he remained silent. "Taylor and I discussed this at length yesterday, and she feels that it would be best to just move on-"

"What?" Alan shouted.

Detective Lozano, on the other hand, rocked back as if he had been struck a physical blow. "You're shitting me. After that? Your kid's made of sterner stuff than any I've ever seen or heard of." Danny started to respond, but he held up a hand. "It's up to the district attorney, but I wouldn't hold your breath on her letting them off Scott Free."

Danny gave them both a dark look. "Oh, I didn't say anything about _that._ Taylor had some conditions, and I have one or two of my own." Alan and the detective both looked at him with wildly different expressions: The former was mixed between hope and sadness, while the latter made ready to take more notes with a barely-concealed sense of satisfaction.

As Danny laid out the terms, Alan sagged just a little bit more each time. He took pity on the man, and poured him another glass. By the time he was finished, he was ready to pour one more for himself. He turned the laptop over to the detective and saw him to the door, and then went back into the living room. Alan had helped himself to another round, and he didn't mind. It wasn't a great comparison, but Danny had done more than his fair share of it when Annette had died.

"Fuck, Dan. I don't know what to say."

Danny took the bottle from him and made one last drink. "I don't blame you, Alan. We do the best we can to guide them, but sometimes it just isn't enough."

He nodded morosely and downed his glass. "I suppose this means I'm not welcome-"

"Alan," Danny jabbed a finger at him. "How long have we been friends? You came along and gave me a kick in the ass when I needed it, and I'm returning the favor now – though I'm sorry it had to be done. You didn't do this, _she _did. Decent people don't behave this way, Alan. Emma is not well." He gripped the man by one shoulder and turned him around. "There's more to it than what happened on Monday, a _lot_ more. I can show you, or you can take my word for it, but because we've been friends for so long, you deserve to know all of it."

Alan closed his eyes and tipped his head down. "There's _more?_" he said plaintively.

Danny grimaced and gave him the short version, during which the redheaded man grew increasingly agitated. "So you see, Taylor is showing a great deal of mercy, more than any of them deserve. You know that I'm right." Alan's hands clenched and unclenched several times. "I know I've dumped a load of hot garbage in your lap, old friend, and I'm sorry for that."

Alan didn't speak for several minutes while he got his own temper under control. Finally, he buckled down. "So, Dan, what happens now?"

Danny took a deep breath to calm down. "There are a couple of things I need you to do for me tomorrow."


	13. 2-6 - Delineation

****A/N - Whoops! Not sure what happened there folks! There were no temporal shenanigans, I swear! Here's the proper chpter.****

* * *

**November 28, 2010 – The Docks  
Wyatt **

Working with Taylor was very strange to Wyatt, but not necessarily in a bad way. In spite of his misgivings the night before, the teenage girl had proven to be highly intelligent. Once he had gotten over the initial shock of just how she intended to fund the colonial project, they had started to plan the takedown of the Nine in earnest. She had wanted to just freeze them all and hand them over – a plan which had immediately been declared boring. At first she had been reluctant, but once the pair of them got going, she started to see the appeal.

That all came to a screeching halt as Taylor, slightly annoyed, informed them of a minor snag. "Dad's going to veto that little adventure," she grumbled. That had been one of the more difficult concepts for him to grasp. She explained how she could send messages to herself from various points in her own timeline, which brought up even more questions that he wanted to ask. "He said that before anything happens, he wants to meet you two first. I guess he kind of has a point: I did sort of just run off and start doing things without telling him."

Ben snorted and pulled the open laptop closer. "Is it really running off half-cocked if you go back in time first?" The sarcastic doubt of his voice made Taylor laugh. "Seriously, it's fine – there's plenty for us to do until then – will we have to wait until after the New Year, though?"

She twisted her hand back and forth. "Not necessarily. I could bring you to him, or vice-versa. Do you need me to make anything before we get started on Wyatt's problem?" He scowled and tried not to grumble. He still wasn't sure about this whole powers-be-live nonsense. She had yet to explain that bit of crazy.

Ben tapped the corner of the laptop. "I should be good for now, but depending on where I start, maybe a notebook or whiteboard, something to work on math might be useful." One hand-wave later, and a whiteboard appeared near the table. "That's handy, thanks! You two have fun with your little powwow thing – don't do anything I wouldn't do!" He jammed a pair of earbuds in before Wyatt could retort.

Instead, he turned to look at Taylor. "So, uh, how does this work?" He had no idea what to expect. "It's not some freaky mind-meld thing, is it?"

Taylor cackled loudly enough that Ben hunched his shoulders and pressed the earbuds farther into his ears. "I'm not a Vulcan, you boob!" He grumbled, and eventually she settled down. "The shards work like that in a way, and I _suppose_ I could, too. That seems a little too familiar to me, though."

He waved his arms back and forth across one another. "No, that's quite alright!" He did _not_ want a teenage girl rooting through his head. Actually, he didn't want anyone doing that at all. "What's the alternative?" He wasn't sure what to believe about the idea that powers were creatures that plugged into human brains. Taylor had done a pretty good job of turning what was possible on its ear, though.

She snorted and flicked her fingers out to one side, where a portal unfolded; instead of landscape or another room, it was a blank white. "Step into my office," she said. The way she wiggled her eyebrows made him nervous, but he followed her inside. "Welcome to Sub-Dimension Zero."

Wyatt looked around warily, and calmed down a bit when he saw the portal stood open behind them. Ben had turned to stare, and so he shrugged his shoulders. "It's kind of empty in here," he said as he turned back around. He was going to ask her what would happen now, but the words died in his throat. A table had appeared two feet away.

A large albino ferret perched at the edge of the table closest to them, and it was looking at him far, far too intelligently to be a mere animal. It chittered, and a booming voice came from all around them.

[GREETINGS, LEET-WYATT.]

Wyatt staggered, and promptly fell flat on his back; he vaguely noticed that instead of a hard surface, he had landed on something soft and springy. "Menny," Taylor chided the creature and shook her finger at it. "You're supposed to whisper around guests!"

[apologies. inevitable.]

He winced, but the sensation of pressure lessened, and he sat up. "Wha… buh…" He was having a hard time forming a coherent thought, let alone mouth-words. He put his grabber down to brace himself and encountered something fluffy. When he looked down at it, he found some kind of wooly substance. "Soft," was all he could manage to say as he poked at it.

Taylor ruefully extended a hand down, which he took. "Sorry about that, Menny gets excited when he meets new capes." She hauled him to his feet and held her index finger up in front of his face. "You're probably feeling a little discombobulated," she said, and he nodded dumbly. "Normally I'd just wait it out, but I can fix it now if you want." He wagged his head up and down, and she poked his forehead.

Something clicked into place, and suddenly his train of thought came back online. "There we go," she said, "all better?" He rubbed the spot she had touched, which was numb, but the sensation had already begun to fade.

Wyatt looked at her, and then leaned to the side to look at the ferret. It pawed the air with a stubby limb. "What the fuck?" He straightened and looked at Taylor, who sidled closer to the table so she could rub her fingers across his furry head. "You have a talking ferret?"

She smiled and picked him up, and then deposited him on her shoulder with practiced ease. "This is Menny," she said, scratching a fingernail under his jaw. "and this is a sort of pocket dimension that's part of his true form." She twisted around to look at the ferret. "I think we can probably skip the full reveal for now, Menny. Can we chat with Wyatt's shard?"

The ferret bobbed its sinuous neck down, and then up. [affirmative.] Wyatt barely had time to wince before he felt a strange sensation run through his head. [established.] He started to ask what just happened when there was a thunderous crash behind him, which caused him to spin and drop into a defensive crouch.

Wyatt could only stare at the massive wall of technology in front of them. At first it seemed to be a solid mass of pipes, wires, and spinning gears. It was interspersed with screens and dials, and there were banks of blinking lights. "Wow," Taylor said in awe. "Your desktop is so… busy." Even as she spoke, the wall shifted and flowed into different configurations, to the point that it made his eyes water. It seemed to stretch out to the sides forever, and it was noisy, too. The rumble of machinery was accompanied by a vast array of other sounds, which reminded him of a very busy factory. His mind reeled as he tried to make sense of it.

His thoughts were harshly interrupted.

_**{DEGENERATE!}**_

* * *

Ben had only been watching a video about high-energy physics for about ten minutes when he realized that there might be a flaw with Taylor's plan. She had pointed him at particle physics because it was the logical first step – to her. Math and science had both been his better subjects in school, but that was almost a decade gone by. Not only that, but he had _hated_ calculus with a passion; the only reason he'd made any effort at all had less to do with scholastic pride and more to do with Miss Lawson. He still daydreamed about the blonde, bespectacled woman on occasion, and wondered what had become of her.

His distraction was brought to a halt as the music player faded on a drawn out guitar riff – only to be overcome out by wordless shouting. He jerked the earbuds out and twisted around in his seat to look at the portal. The whitespace had bothered him, but now it was littered with all kinds of stuff, mostly of a technological nature – circuit boards and metal armatures lay strewn along the 'ground' with a mixture of gears, pipes, and wires that sparked fitfully.

He jumped as a metal ball of some kind sailed past the opening. "Ack! Look out!" Taylor shouted from somewhere out of sight, followed by an eerie screech and a flash of light. "Menny! He's trying to flank us!" Ben, not sure that he wanted to know what was going on, stood up slowly.

"Not the face! I need that for video games!" came Wyatt's strangled cry. "It's IN MY HAIR! Get it off! Get it off!" He reluctantly edged closer to the portal as more junk few into, and out of view. "Oh god, why me!?" When Ben got within two feet of the portal, he jerked back as a mechanical raccoon darted past. "C'mere, you little bastard!" Wyatt charged after in hot pursuit of the monster, a crazed look on his face. He was covered in some kind of bastardized exoskeleton from hell, and his hair was covered in some sort of pink goop. It stuck out in all directions, and it definitely added to the unhinged look.

Ben was about to shout after him when a ferret slightly larger a medium-sized dog bounded by the opening as well. It made guttural noises more suited to an upset orangutan. "Ha! I got h-gaaaaaaah! TrapTrap!" Wyatt wailed. "Why is he so angry?"

Taylor skated by not three feet in front of him wielding a hockey stick with flashing LED's. "Hang on! Menny, get the plasma net!" There were more crashes, interspersed with panicked shouts from Wyatt.

Ben, who was sure he was going to regret it, called out. "Hey! What the hell's going on in there?" The cacophony paused. "Are you guys okay?"

"It's fine!" Taylor shouted back, and the chaos resumed – a pressure cooker with all manner of things sticking out of it landed just inside the opening with a clatter that sent other parts flying up, and Ben jumped back.

"This is not fine-AH!" Wyatt wailed. "This is very not fine! Why did I let you talk me into this?!"

"Stop being such a baby – I already made you invulnerable. Now hold still!" There was a metallic impact, and it was met with a hissing screech that sounded like a combination of a steam engine and the world's angriest cat ever. "Got him! Quick, use the net!" Electricity buzzed and Ben caught a whiff of ozone. "Dammit!"

Ben held up one finger and drew breath to ask another question, but the ruckus was now so loud that he doubted it would be heard. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned back to the table. He wasn't up to 'power-wrangling', so he sat back down and vowed to find some heavy metal. With any luck it would drown out the pandemonium that was Taylor Hebert and Wyatt as they carried on doing… whatever it was they were doing. "Hmm… White Zombie ought to be loud enough, right?"

**December 19, 2010 – Pasadena, CA  
Martin Rand**

JPL was deserted at this time of the morning as Martin made his way in to the administration building. _Not that there are many people around these days,_ he thought sourly. He had been there since the late 70's, back when the world still cared about things like space exploration. Superheroes and villains had been the stuff of comic books. And even when capes became a reality, things had really cooked up for a minute.

He stopped to get a refill on his coffee before making his way to the Secondary GC. He shouldered his way through the doors and did his best to ignore the brightly colored signs, or the gift shop that had replaced one corner of the control room. Three advanced degrees and a lifetime spent in service of expanding mankind's understanding of the universe around them; he had been reduced to a glorified tour guide. Times were tough, though, and he held out hope that things might get better.

The only other good thing besides keeping a roof over his head and food in his fridge was the fact that he still had access to pretty much every surviving mission being maintained by NASA. Several of them had been re-purposed for things like S-class threat tracking, but that held little interest for him this morning. He went over to the desk that bundled all of the Mars missions and sat down at the Odyssey terminal.

He brought the telemetry online and initiated the connection, and sat back to sip from his mug. They were lucky to have it, still – one of the last few interplanetary missions still up and running. Sadly, there weren't likely to be any more, not in his lifetime anyway. A speaker close by crackled to life. "Marty, good morning! What brings you in so early?"

He raised his coffee at the speaker. "Morning, Dragon. Doing some cross for Maddie and her results from the Gemini." He rather liked the Canadian tinker. She was polite, and genuinely interested in more than the press-book tour stuff. It wasn't bad stuff, just a little more on the sci-fluff side of things for his liking.

One of the monitors on the main screen flashed over to a view of the woman, and she smiled brightly at him. "That's very nice of you. Was her experiment a success?"

He hadn't been thrilled to get the early-morning wakeup call. After the initial shock of why Maddie had called in the first place, he had convinced himself on the drive over that she must be mistaken. "Well, it's hard to say for sure. She's got good image, but her numbers are way off in a couple of places. I guess we'll find out in a bit."

They carried on a conversation about the latest developments, and he relaxed back into the seat as much as he could. Twenty minutes passed easily enough, now that he had someone to talk to. They were having a friendly argument about hockey when the first results came back in.

When the dump came in, he paged through the first few screens, not paying the data much mind. It wasn't until he got to the THEMIS results that he frowned. "Well that can't be right," he said. He continued through the screens, growing more perplexed with each one he viewed. He refused to pull the log binder, because he knew them well enough that he could probably recite them in his sleep.

Dragon had apparently followed along, without the benefit of his experience. "Which part of it is wrong, Marty?" She was looking off screen, trying to make sense of his confusion. "Oh, wait, I see. The thermal readings are off. Could it be… No, that can't be it. Am I reading this right? Could it be equipment failure?"

He shook his head and cursed the lassitude of the industry. There had been a time when this was all monitored around the clock. "I don't see how, Dragon. It's almost as if... Hmm." He sat up and cycled to the CAPCOM UHF interface. "I'm going to see if I can tap into Curiosity's sensors." He hesitated, realizing who it was he was talking to. "You won't tell anyone just yet, will you?" It could be nothing, hardware failure just like she suggested. But if it wasn't…

"Go on, Marty, I'm intrigued myself." He shot a conspiratorial grin at the screen and typed the keys.

He drained the last of the bitter brew and got up to get more. "Be right back," he said. He pulled out his cell phone and tapped out a quick text message to Maddie to see if she had anything new yet. Her reply came back just as he took a drink, and he spewed hot fluid so violently that he gagged and nearly threw up. The mug slipped from his fingers, and the noise it made as it shattered went unnoticed. He nearly dropped the phone as he sprinted back to the GC.

Dragon visibly jumped as he slammed through the doors and hurtled down the ramp to the workstation. "Good grief, Marty, where's the fire?" He barely caught her look of concern as he stared at the screen and willed time to move faster. "Marty!" Dragon said sharply. "What's going on, talk to me!"

He croaked and shook his head, slapping his chest to clear his airway before he tried again. "Maddie just sent me…" He looked at his phone as if it were lying to him. "Mars is bigger."

Dragon gave him a worried look. "Bigger? What does she mean by that?"

He looked at the text message again and read it aloud for Dragon's benefit. "And I quote, 'Marty, what the F-word is going on?! The equatorial diameter is nearly 8,000 KILOMETERS! How does a whole planet get _bigger?!'" _He leaned over and braced himself on the desk. "Why do I feel like this is the world's worst prank?" he asked plaintively.

Dragon's doubtful reply came back. "Could it be volcanic activity, or a large meteor strike?"

He shook his head slowly. "If it was the latter, there would be different data. As for the other, I don't see how – not for a _fourteen_ percent increase." The revelation was making him feel light-headed. Or maybe it was the inhaled coffee, he wasn't sure. A few minutes later, the transmission from Curiosity came back. He glared at it, as if somehow the rover was getting in on the joke. "Oh sure, why the hell not." He sat back down and pulled out the binder, and slapped it onto the desktop with more force than necessary.

He turned to the right page on the first try, and looked back and forth at both sets of numbers. "Well, Dragon, I think you should probably make that phone call now." He pushed the binder to the side. "I'm just going to sit here and try not to pass out."


	14. 2-7 - Delineation

**January 4, 2011 – PRT ENE Headquarters  
Sophia**

The door of the holding cell clanked as Sophia kicked it for the hundredth time. "Let me out of here, you fuckers! I have rights!" She didn't know how long she had been unconscious the first time. She had come awake groggily, and in considerable pain. Armsbastard had lived up to his nickname, jumping her from behind with no warning, _like a coward,_ she thought angrily. The tinker had tased her, and then dumped her in the tiny, windowless room.

She'd been fed three times now – a cold chicken sandwich, chips, and an apple for what she assumed was a late supper, and then mixed fruit and a breakfast sandwich. She had tried to hold out in protest, but her hunger won out. Lunch, the same as her barebones dinner from the night before, sat untouched at the foot of the bed.

The whole thing was bullshit; no one had bothered to tell her what the hell was going on. Both of her phones had been taken, along with anything even remotely resembling metal. The only thing of that sort that she had was the pair of heavy bracelets she wore, along with a plain white jumpsuit. Said bracelets were rigged to shock her if she tried to enter her shadow state – not that it would have helped. The room was designed to contain breakers like herself.

They were treating her like some kind of loser criminal, and she just knew who was to blame: Fucking Hebert. Somehow, she had to be responsible for Sophia's current predicament. Either that, or someone at school had talked, and if _that_ was the case, they were going to pay. But Hebert was going to get it so bad when Sophia finally got things straightened out. Emma and Madison would both back her up, and there was no way Hebert had any proof. Even if someone were stupid enough to help that loser, it wouldn't be enough.

That was going to be pointless if they wouldn't _fucking – _kick – _let_ – kick – _her out_ – KICK! "This is total garbage! You can't do this to m-"

_"Miss Hess, you will _contain_ yourself and step away from the door now!"_ She growled at the nameless trooper's tinny voice that came through the overhead speaker. When she made no move to follow the order she had been given, the speaker crackled to life again. _"Step back, or we WILL foam you."_

For a brief moment, she considered telling them to fuck off, but grudgingly stepped back. She had never been hit with containment foam before, being able to shift to shadow the time or two it had nearly happened, but that wasn't an option now. She had seen Clockblocker get nailed once, and it had been funny to see him so miserable – she had no intention of experiencing it firsthand.

The magnetic lock in the door released with a loud clack, and then it was pushed open by the last person Sophia had ever expected to see.

Alexandria stepped inside, dragging a chair in with her, and then she shut the door. "Sit," she commanded in a tone that clearly expected obedience, and she pointed at the bunk. A tablet pc rode under her arm, which was tossed on the bunk before she lowered herself into the seat. "You will watch the video, and then we will talk." Sophia knew better than to argue, and so she did as she was told.

* * *

**Earlier That Morning  
Alexandria**

Quintessence, for all the furor surrounding her, hadn't seemed very intimidating to Rebecca. The costume was admittedly very impressive, and the disguised voice did make it difficult to determine the younger woman's age. The speech patterns sounded stilted, so perhaps ENE's assessment was a little on the high side. She had flown out to Brockton Bay early that morning, partly to meet the cape, but also to set the woman straight. They sat in the same conference room, with Armsmaster and Miss Militia flanking her, but near the wall. She had given orders to Piggot to remain in her office, pending the other woman's reaction.

Quintessence gave very little away upon hearing that the PRT, in fact, would not be told what to do. "I see," she said. Her posture did not change, and the tone of voices was neutral. "Allow me to make certain that I understand you correctly. Sophia Hess gets a pass on her heinous behavior, because it will draw inconvenient public perception." The silvery mask tilted to one side, and the speed of the crawling vines on the breastplate did not change. "And what of Taylor Hebert? Will there be no justice for her?"

Rebecca kept her own tone of voice and facial features impassive. "That would be an accurate assessment. Shadow Stalker will be confined indefinitely, and the Heberts will be compensated generously." This approach was a calculated risk, but a necessary one. "That may seem unfair, but it is the only course of action the Protectorate is willing to take at this juncture."

Quintessence stood, and Rebecca tensed – the cape was of a height. "I'm afraid that is not acceptable, but I understand. You leave me no choice." She moved toward the end of the table, heading in the direction of the door.

Rebecca stood as well, and moved to block her path. "I'm also going to have to insist that you turn over all copies of the footage you've taken. If the full extent were to fall into the wrong hands-"

The stubborn cape halted near the edge of the conference table. "Neither will I do that, nor will there be any danger of that happening," Quintessence cut in. "If the Protectorate will not do the right thing, then we shall see how the public feels about it. Let the people draw their own conclusions."

Rebecca placed on hand on the table. "I cannot allow that – you would be putting lives at risk." She heaved, and the table rumbled and shrieked across the floor; she was keenly aware of the other two capes' own tension, but they had not moved from their positions against the wall. Quintessence, to her credit, did not react fearfully.

Instead, she took a step forward. "This will not end well, Alexandria. Move aside," she said calmly, and she took another step. It impressed and thrilled her more than she cared to admit. She couldn't remember the last time she had faced an opponent that didn't shake in their boots at least a little bit. She sprang forward with just enough force, intending to lay hands on the woman and push her up against the far wall. Instead, she crashed into the armored breastplate with both hands, and _stopped._ After a split-second of confusion, she tried to press harder, and they didn't move so much as a millimeter.

Quintessence casually grasped both of her wrists with either hand, and put enough pressure for her to actually _feel_ it. "You disappoint me, Alexandria, I had expected better of you." Concrete fractured beneath the carpet as the cape pushed her away. Rebecca marveled at the sheer, measured power of the move, made with apparent ease as she pushed back with as much strength as she dared. Oh, what she would give to have this woman at her side against any of the Endbringers. She only hoped that the course of action she had chosen was the right one.

Quintessence then changed the rules of the game. "If I were you, I would take a deep breath." Rebecca had no sooner gasped inwardly, than the floor fell out from under them both, and then she was falling. And freezing hard enough to make her teeth chatter – it wouldn't kill her, she knew, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to endure. Darkness surrounded them, and a circle of light rapidly vanished into the distance as intense pressure slammed into her from all sides.

The first inklings of panic set in, something she hadn't felt since The Siberian had torn her face half off. She tried to fly up, back to the portal she had obviously been dragged down through. "Ah-ah," Quintessence admonished her as the fingers tightened on her wrists like vices. "Finish what you start, Rebecca, and consider that I'm being _kind_."

They impacted a rough, rocky surface, and Rebecca felt it crackle and flex. The surface was covered in a heavy permafrost, but she had little time to wonder just where she'd been taken, because she tried to breathe in spite of Quintessence's warning. There was nothing for her to take in, and her heart began to hammer in her chest as the oxygen she had left in her lungs began to run out.

Quintessence, clearly unbothered by the lack of atmosphere, finally released her. Rebecca tried to fly up, only to be firmly halted by hands on her shoulders. "I don't think so," she said, in a tone that sounded positively cheerful. Rebecca abandoned her plan as her vision began to dim at the edges, sparks of light flashing within it. She punched the shiny mask, and it only rocked back a fraction. "Alexandria, I know this might seem difficult, but if you don't stop struggling, you're going to pass out. If you promise to listen, I will give you air. Let us talk, woman to woman."

Rebecca tried to get away again, but she was held firmly to the ground. Finally, she could take no more, and ceased struggling. Quintessence took that as consent, and a hissing sound filled her ears, accompanied by pure oxygen that she unabashedly sucked in. Once she got her breath, the other woman finally released her. "I know what you're trying to do – your little stealth test."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she took note of their surroundings. "Not so clever, after all." Stars wheeled overhead and across the horizon. "Dare I ask where you've kidnapped me to?"

Quintessence glided past her in response. "Walk with me, won't you?" Rebecca was tempted to retreat, a glance upward showing her the portal still open. The opportunity to learn more about the enigmatic cape overrode her instincts, however. She turned to follow, and halted after two steps. Quintessence kept walking, and she took long strides to catch up, hoping that it would mask the trickle of fear she felt at the sight that loomed large in front of them.

They walked in silence for a few moments, before she finally ventured a question. "Is that…"

"Jupiter? Yes." Rebecca firmly clamped her teeth together, utterly prepared to wait whatever length of time Quintessence required.

* * *

**Back on Earth Bet  
Miss Militia**

Hannah had rarely seen Alexandria in person outside of Endbringer fights and the occasional Protectorate event. She trusted the Triumvirate member implicitly, but had been confused by her strategy, if only briefly. She was relieved to hear that Sophia Hess would, in fact, not be excused from all of the terrible things that she'd done. Realization had come to her that, because they all knew so little about Quintessence, Alexandria was hoping to provoke a reaction.

It had appeared that it would reveal little, as Quintessence remained as unflappable and concise as she had at their first meeting. Things had gone dramatically worse than any of them had expected. Alexandria had warned them that things might get a little… hectic. Hannah doubted very much that their nominal superior had expected to be stopped, or taken away.

The hole in the floor confirmed that Quintessence could make use of her windows to other places. There had been an alarming rush of air down through it, which had cut off the moment the pair of them had passed through. Colin, like a fool, had tried to leap in after them, but he at least had the presence of mind to stab his halberd into the concrete floor before he had attempted it.

He now crouched next to it with his hand pressed flush against the opening, held back by some unseen barrier. "What can you see?" she asked. Her eyesight was good, but whatever was down there was far enough away that all she could make out was a rocky surface. She would chastise his impulsiveness later. Right now she was more concerned with what had become of Alexandria, and though she was reluctant to admit it, she was worried about Quintessence as well. The girl was worthy of respect: Anyone willing to stand up to Alexandria the way she had deserved at least some consideration.

Colin stood up and stamped a boot down where his hand had been. "Laser bounce-back puts the surface at about a mile down." He frowned and pressed two fingers to the side of his helmet. "I can't get a read on the location, but I can see them walking, and most likely speaking."

Hannah heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm not certain this was the best idea. We could have tried asking first." She understood that the Triumvirate handled things differently now and then, but this approach made her wonder if more questions might have been asked. The Protectorate wasn't exactly a democracy, but they did talk things over. Usually.

Colin shook his head in disagreement. "When it comes to capes with unknown abilities and a calm nature, sometimes a gamble is prudent." Hannah frowned and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Colin was a good friend, but he seldom questioned the directives of his superiors. He stepped back from the edge of the hole. "They're flying back now," he said. "It seems the conversation was brief."

Hannah's power manifested a machete, and she hooked her thumbs in her belt. "Let us hope that it was productive." She decided not to comment any more than that. Less than a minute later, Alexandria and Quintessence emerged, sans air-pressure disturbances. The hole shrank to nothing, and the pair settled down on the carpet.

Neither said anything, and Quintessence gave them a nod just before she vanished. Alexandria looked at the empty space that had been occupied moments ago. Without looking, she said, "Please inform Director Piggot that she may begin processing Shadow Stalker's paperwork for transfer to juvenile detention."

Colin turned to go, but paused when Hannah lagged behind. "What happened down there – wherever that was?"

Alexandria turned to look at them grimly. "The contents of this meeting are now classified. Discuss it with no one. I will work with the Chief Director to update the file on Quintessence," and without another word, she dragged the massive table back to its original position, and then she left the room.

**A/N - I decided to break this down into separate chapters. I should have the next round sometime Saturday! :)**


	15. 2-8 - Delineation

**January 5, 2011 – Winslow High (Iteration 332)**  
**Danny**

The winter chill bit into his skin as Danny stood in front of the stairs outside of Taylor's school. He faced the parking lot and waited patiently for Alan to arrive. They hadn't indulged too much, but it was enough that he'd had to take his friend's keys and call him a taxi. Alan had called him that morning, hung over and morose; his search had been more successful than he'd hoped. In spite of his discomfort, his friend promised to meet him there.

Danny felt as much sympathy for Alan as he could. Given how badly things could have gone for Taylor, he was having a difficult time with it. There had been a few other calls, and most of it had been more or less what he had expected. Detective Lozano was working with the district attorney to have the necessary papers drawn up, but had warned him that it might be a bit later than they'd hoped.

Mrs. Clements had been confused, and then angered to hear that her daughter was accused of being part of something so foul. The tone of the conversation quickly turned to dismay as he told her about the iron-clad proof he had in his possession. Her husband was out of town on business, but she also had agreed to come to the school.

A call to the Hess household had been brief. Sophia's mother had apologized straightaway – by the way she sounded, he could tell that she was disappointed, but not surprised at all. She wasn't able to attend, but had assured him that her daughter was in custody already. Knowing what he did, Danny didn't envy her situation in the slightest.

The plan was to arrive during the last period of classes so that the parents and principal could discuss things. Once classes ended for the day, the girls would be called into the office to mete out punishment. Danny still wasn't sure this was the right move – if it were up to him, they would get the proverbial book and be done with the whole sorry affair. Taylor, however, had been cryptic in her reasoning for providing alternatives: She had only said that there was more going on than she should say. Her solution was perhaps more merciful than he would have liked, but he could see the merit in it. In some ways, it might even be worse for the two girls.

During his musing, Danny missed Alan's sedan pull into the lot, but he walked out from between parked cars a few minutes before the appointed time. As he approached the entrance, he waved tiredly, but he still looked impeccable in his three-piece suit. Danny smiled sadly, recalling that to his old friend had once said that the suit was his armor, both in the courtroom and out. The briefcase swung at his side, and it might have been Danny's imagination, but the thing seemed leaden to Alan.

The red-headed man approached, and Danny did his best to ignore the bloodshot, raw eyes, and he offered his hand. "Alan, how are you holding up?" They shook hands, and he suppressed a wince at the tightness of it.

Alan, who looked as if he'd bitten into something sour, shrugged minutely. "Better than Zoe, but not by much." He let go and balanced the briefcase so that he could open it without spilling the contents. "I was really hoping not to find it, but, well, you can see for yourself."

Danny clenched his fists and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that none of this was Alan's fault. "I suppose they divided it up among themselves, or maybe got rid of the rest." The briefcase closed quietly and drifted back down. Tears ran down the man's cheeks, and Danny gripped him by the shoulder. "I don't blame you, and remember, Taylor could have ended up worse off than she did. We still have a few minutes: Pull yourself together. I'll wait for you in the office." He gave his friend a gentle shake of encouragement, and turned to go inside.

Students were making their way through the halls as he approached the office. He was sure that he had spotted Emma, but he clenched his jaw and went inside, pretending not to see her. He was afraid that, if he acknowledged her, his temper might finally get the better of him. The secretary, a middle-aged woman with ash blonde hair in a loose braid, looked up at him politely. "Mr. Hebert," she said. "and Mister Barnes, welcome to Winslow. Principal Blackwell is expecting you," she gestured toward the open door to her right.

Danny thanked her, pleased that at least someone in this godforsaken place held a modicum of professional behavior. He had seen how most of the staff conducted themselves in some of the video files. That had burned almost more than the actual bullying itself, and it was something he fully intended to hammer the school's administrator with. If anyone else had failed Taylor more than he had, it was the so-called authority figures in this place.

He strode into the office to find the principal seated at her desk across from a dark-haired woman, presumably Mrs. Clements. "Gentlemen, please come in," Principal Blackwell greeted them, causing Mrs. Clements to twist in her seat. They took the empty chairs in front of the desk. "I was just telling Evelyn that we are here to discuss the unfortunate event that took place on Monday. If you weren't aware, Miss Hess will not be joining us. Before we begin, might I inquire after Miss Hebert?" He had to hand it to the woman,

Danny nodded and withdrew five USB flash drives from his coat pocket. "You may. Taylor is doing well, but she's still in the hospital, and so she won't be joining us today." He leaned forward and dropped the drives onto the desk, taking the time to arrange them, label-side up. "These are for the school district's attorneys, as you requested. Now," he said, calmly interrupting the woman before she could interject.

"Taylor and I have spoken at length – Alan and I have come to an understanding, so what I have to say is for your benefit, ladies." He turned to look at Mrs. Clements, who broke her stare at the little devices to look at him nervously. He pointed to the pile. "What I have here paints a very ugly picture, more than enough to throw a big box of tarantulas into the whole situation. There is more than sufficient material here to directly implicate students, staff, and even yourself, Ms. Blackwell."

The woman squawked indignantly, "Mr. Hebert I-"

"Shut your mouth, lady, I wasn't finished." He said it with deadly, measured calm. He felt a certain amount of satisfaction as her complexion turned a darker shade of red. "All of that footage hangs you, a number of teachers, and most definitely the three girls in question. Now, if it were up to me, not only would you all be smeared in the media, lose your jobs, and be arrested for flagrant disregard of a minor in your care."

Danny sat back and collected himself as Blackwell sputtered. He noted that Mrs. Clements had physically leaned away from him as if he were scorching the air. Alan, on the other hand, sat stolidly, back stiff and fists clenched hard against his knees. "For reasons I won't try to fathom, Taylor simply wants to move on with her life, away from this miserable excuse of an institution. I understand that there may be some extenuating circumstances, Ms. Blackwell, but this goes far beyond the pale."

Blackwell finally recovered enough, though her voice shook – whether from fear or anger he could not say. "And what is it that your daughter wants from us? Certainly we can cover her medical expenses, but I must insist that-"

Danny cut her off firmly. "I don't believe you fully understand what side of the situation you're on, so let me spell it out for you. You have no options, save this: Meet Taylor's very simple request, or face the wolves. Alan, is that an accurate assessment?"

They turned to look at him, and he steeled himself. "Ms. Blackwell, Danny is correct. In layman's terms, you're screwed." He drew his elbows onto the chair's armrests and laced his fingers together. "If I were acting as your legal counsel, I would advise you accept the settlement being offered in a New York minute."

The principal glanced between Danny and his friend, and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "And what is it that Miss Hebert is asking for?"

Danny tipped his head at Alan. "Taylor assures me that she can test out of high school altogether if she's given six weeks of preparation time. You will arrange for her to do that at Arcadia, and allow her to take the tests there. Make them as challenging as any semester final at the Senior level, and she will take them." He pulled three index cards out of his front pocket and passed them to the woman. "In addition to that, Taylor has agreed to compromise with me." He pointed at the cards as she looked at them. "There are three names on those cards, along with annotations by drive number and file names. Those teachers are to be summarily fired and blacklisted by the district. I've seen the videos for myself, and those 'people' have no business being responsible for children whatsoever. Regardless of what decision you make, and it _will_ be today, Taylor will not set one foot inside this building ever again." He sat back, and she frowned down at the cards in her hands.

Alan took the opportunity to reinforce his earlier statement. "It really is the best deal you're going to get, Principal Blackwell. I haven't seen these videos for myself, but if Danny's description is accurate, it's the most egregious dereliction of responsibility I've heard of in my twenty-odd years of practicing law." She gave him a withering look, and he spread out his fingers. "Don't take my word for it – if you call the school's attorney, I'll bet you a year's salary that he agrees with me."

Danny watched the woman as she carefully set the cards down in front of her and spread them out. Mrs. Clements, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, finally found the courage to speak. "And what about Madison and Emma, what happens to them?" Danny turned his head to look at her, and she gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm not saying that they haven't behaved terribly. I guarantee you that Madison, at least, is already in so much trouble – _especially_ when her father gets home."

He gave her an approving nod. If Taylor had pulled this sort of crap, he'd have grounded her until she was forty. "It's up to them, according to Taylor. They need to come clean and admit what they did, _before_ we show them any proof." He waved his hand at his friend. "Alan thinks that Emma will do it, and I hope he's right about that. I don't know your daughter, though. Either way, expulsion is the minimum we will accept."

Mrs. Clements paled and cringed. "Is that really necessary?" Principal Blackwell, he noticed, nodded her head fractionally.

Danny clenched his jaw hard enough to make his temples throb. "Your daughter participated in a prolonged campaign of terrorizing my daughter." He couldn't help the anger that slipped into his voice. "She and her friends tormented Taylor for a year and a half. There were insults, vicious emails, thefts and vandalism as well as physical assaults. Not two days ago, Madison stood by and filmed my daughter being shoved into her own locker, which was filled with rotted human waste." By the time he had finished reminding the woman just how awful the whole thing was, she had hunched further in upon herself.

Her tremulous response came out a bit squeakily. "And if they don't come clean?" Danny spent the next few minutes explaining just what the alternative was going to be. By the end of it, Mrs. Clements was looking rather faint. Principal Blackwell, however, came to a decision, and pulled the antiquated microphone over so she could summon five more soon-to-be _very_ unhappy people to the office.

* * *

**Eighth Period Biology  
Madison**

The clock ticked loudly, and Madison closed her textbook; they had ten minutes to go, and she was sick of reading about alleles and polygenic inheritance. The punnet squares were interesting, but there was only so much she could take by the end of the day. She surreptitiously checked her phone for messages and saw that there were several from her mother. She rolled her eyes and pushed it back into her pocket before Miss Chambers could do more than peer over her glasses and shake her finger.

At five minutes to the bell and sweet, sweet freedom, the speaker crackled and emitted a bell tone. _"Mr. Gladly, Mr. Stewart, and Mrs. Hines, please report to Principal Blackwell's office."_ That was unusual, but she didn't give it much thought – probably some after-school meeting about silly things. She started to stack up her supplies when the principal's voice called out again. _"Emma Barnes and Madison Clements, please report to the secretary's office."_

A jolt passed through her body when she heard her name, and she froze. "Well, Miss Clements?" the elderly teacher tapped a ruler on her desk to get Madison's attention. "You'd better get a move-on."

She stood up and gathered her things into her backpack. "Yes, Miss Chambers," she said. Her mind raced as she minced past the other students. There were a few whispers, which were broken up by the staccato clack of the ruler. Madison would have rather stayed in the strict woman's microcosm of the animal kingdom, rather than go to the office. She was absolutely sure what it was about: Taylor had accused them of bullying again, and they were being called to the carpet for it.

Most of the time she was happy to go along with the games Sophia and Emma cooked up, but what happened to Taylor on Monday was screwed up, even for them. She hadn't realized that they had put all of that shit in her locker. Stuffing Taylor inside had seemed like a good way to pick on the girl, but by the time Madison realized that the other two had taken it a huge step farther, it was too late. It wasn't until later that afternoon that she learned that they had left Taylor in there practically all day.

Madison's feet carried her down the hallway while her mind was in turmoil. Such was her preoccupation that she nearly ran into Emma, who was waiting for her near the stairwell. "Geez, Mads, pay attention!" she groused. "You look worried."

She stared at Emma in disbelief. "Of _course_ I'm worried, Emma!" she hissed. "We put Taylor in the hospital for fuck sake. Did you honestly think we wouldn't get called out for that?"

Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a wuss. It's not like they can prove anything." She tapped the phone Madison held in one hand. "Did you get rid of it like I told you to?"

She angrily shoved the mobile into her front pocket and scowled. "Yes, Emma, I deleted the incriminating evidence of-" she looked around nervously, "Yes, it's gone. What if someone else filmed it, or they decide to roll over on us?"

Emma, satisfied with the answer she got, started walking down the stairs. "Oh, please, as _if_. Did you see anyone with their phones out?" The question came out rhetorically, and she dismissed the other concern with a flick of her fingers. "Besides, nobody in this school crosses us, not since Sophia beat the crap out of Greg Veder."

Madison kept pace with her, but her frown only deepened. She only half-listened as Emma coached her on what to say, how to answer leading questions – she'd heard it all a million times before. Emma's father being a lawyer had provided useful advice early on, but it hadn't been necessary for quite a while. Even before Taylor had stopped complaining to the school staff, all they had really needed to do was deny everything and match up their stories.

Emma droned on right up to the office doorway, and paused to grip her tightly by the elbow. "Yes, I've _got_ it," she growled, wrenching her arm free. "Come on, let's just get this over with." She marched past Emma, and she noticed the calculating look she was given by the redhead. She started to sit down on the bench next to the secretary's desk, but stopped and stared at the closed door to the principal's office – which only barely muffled the multiple raised voices. She slowly let herself be dragged down by Emma, who had lowered onto the seat casually. Madison wished she shared her confidence, as the arguing carried on for several minutes, even over the bustle of students now fleeing the school.

They waited almost ten minutes before the door was jerked open by a fuming Gladly. He was followed by Mr. Stewart, and Mrs. Hines, both of whom were looking angry and defeated. Neither of the men spared them a glance, but the look that Mrs. Hines gave Emma and her a poisonous look, and then she stormed out after the other two teachers. She looked at Emma, only to receive a shrugging smirk. The intercom on the secretary's desk beeped, and the woman picked up the phone. After a briefly whispered exchange, she put the handset down. "Girls, the principal will see you now."

They both rose, and Madison let Emma lead them inside. Emma walked in, seemingly without a care in the world, while her own steps were heavy. Something told her that Emma's surety was wildly misplaced. Inside, she saw that there were two other adults in the room with Ms. Blackwell: Her mother sat next to a tall, thin man with balding black hair and thick glasses – Taylor's father, she guessed.

They were all seated at a large round table that dominated the corner of the office, away from the desk at the far end of the room. Principal Blackwell sat near the corner, close to the windows. Partway around the table, also near the windows, Taylor's father sat, and he impassively stared at Emma. Her mother sat a little apart from him, and there was an empty chair next to her. Her mother's face was unreadable, but she jabbed her finger at the empty chair.

Emma's father took the next seat over from where she sat down, and he had pulled out the next one for his daughter. Emma placed her bag on the table and sat down so casually that Madison's teeth were set on edge. "Well, ladies, I think you have some explaining to do," Principal Blackwell began seriously. "I must say, when Taylor first came to us about the three of you, your denials and her lack of evidence were good enough for me. Now, however, I'm no longer convinced that something hasn't been going on."

Emma jumped right in. "So she's blaming us for the locker incident now? This is preposterous." She looked at Mr. Hebert and layered false honey into her voice. "Mr. Hebert, I'm sorry, but Taylor is delusional. We haven't been friends for a while, but I can't understand why she's going to all this effort to get me in trouble."

All eyes turned to the man, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Emma, what happened to you?" he asked, simply. "I remember how you and she used to be insep-"

"Taylor is very disturbed," she interrupted. "I tried to help her after her mother died, but it wasn't good enough: I had to move on." She took a deep breath and did her best to sound unhappy. "I'm really sorry that happened to her, but it wasn't us." Madison could only watch Emma's performance with amazement – had she not witnessed Emma and Sophia shoving Taylor in firsthand, she could almost believe it.

Mr. Hebert sighed. "You deny it then? All of it?"

Emma crossed her arms defiantly. "Yes, I do. What else is your daughter accusing us of?" In response, he lifted a thick binder from his lap and carefully set it on the table. "And what on earth is _that_ supposed to be?" she asked indignantly.

He opened the cover and flipped through a few pages. "It might surprise you to learn, _Emma_, that Taylor kept a running record of everything you girls did to her."

"Circumstantial and uncorroborated," she said scornfully.

Unperturbed, Mr. Hebert talked right over her, "There's quite a bit here, young lady: Torment the likes of which I've never heard of before. Insults, emails, physical attacks, thefts-"

Emma seized on that last item. "Is she still moaning about that stupid flute? I have no idea what happened to it. This _is_ Winslow – everybody knows that you don't bring anything and leave it where it can be stolen-"

Madison started to interrupt, "Emma-" but she was cut off by her friend.

"Shut up, Mads, they don't have anyth-"

"Emma, just… Stop." Mr. Barnes lifted his briefcase from where it sat on the floor next to him. As he sat it on the table and started to open it, he looked at her sadly. "I thought your mother and I raised you better than this." He opened the lid and reached inside, and when he withdrew his hand, it held a double-zip locked bag with a twisted lump of metal. He dropped it on the table in front of Emma, and she stared at it in furious horror.

When she looked at him, there was a look of betrayal on her face. "You went through my _room?_" Her voice had gone up shrilly. "You had no right to!"

Before he could tell her that he had every right, Mr. Hebert spoke up. "May I see that, please?" Mr. Barnes grabbed the bag and slid it across the table. Emma belatedly tried to snatch at, but was stopped from doing so by a brush of his hand. The other man trapped it before it could fly off the edge, and he picked it up to examine it more closely. "Yes, this is part of Annette's flute," he said, pointing to the base of the crumpled head. "I can see part of the engraving, MacLeod – her maiden name."

He set it down next to the binder gently. "Not counting the sentimental value, Annette's flute was silver-plated." Madison paled at that statement – she hadn't kept her piece, opting to throw it away instead. "I couldn't begin to calculate the monetary value." Emma was spluttering by this point, and the look he gave her was positively deadpan. "It gets worse, Emma, much, _much_ worse. Principal Blackwell, if you would, please?"

The woman turned to the screen on the wall and pointed a remote control at it. When she pressed the button, it flickered to life, and Madison's heart skipped a beat. There was a video cued up and paused, and it clearly showed Taylor; she was wearing the baggy outfit that she'd shown up to school in on Monday. The principal pressed the play button, and Madison closed her eyes and began to shudder. She heard every whisper, each snicker and chortle as if she were right back in the hallway.

The whole wretched scene played out, and it sounded just as awful to Madison as it had live. Taylors screams and obvious vomiting were, if anything, even louder than they'd been the day of. She noted, thankfully, that she hadn't laughed with them as they all walked out of the last shot. Principal Blackwell paused the playback, and looked pekid. Madison couldn't bear to look at her mother – she could practically feel the horrified disgust that radiated her way.

Instead, she looked at Emma, who had gone a deathly shade of white, and the fury in her eyes spoke volumes more than her silent, wagging jaw. Her father stared at the screen, jaw set. Mr. Hebert's expression was the most shocking of all. Madison had heard the expression naked hatred, but the look on his face put even Emma's to shame. There was a Cheshire grin framed beneath those eyes as well, not unlike that of a Wild Kingdom documentary about predator and prey. And Danny Hebert was about to pounce.

It was that, more than anything else, which made her very glad that his unwavering glare was currently directed at a speechless Emma Barnes instead of her. "I swear, I only knew about the locker, not what was _in_ it," she squeaked. Emma wheeled on her and screeched wordlessly, and tried to lunge at her. Mr. Barnes, however, held her back and started growling something in her ear.

Taylor's father focused on her for the first time and pointed at the screen. "You know, I've watched that video about a dozen times," and his voice grated out the next phrase, "– which is exactly _twelve times too many_. The look on your face convinces me that you're telling the truth." He did not relax, and the angry look he gave her was only slightly less than the one he had just directed at Emma. "But the fact remains, Miss Clements, that you've been part of this from the very beginning of Taylor's high school career."

"Fine! Big deal, you caught us!" Emma shouted at him. "It's not like you can prove anything else. What are you going to-" Her father was trying to push her back into her seat while telling her to shut up.

Mr. Hebert cut in before she could continue. "So certain of that, are you? As for what _I'm_ going to do, that's exactly nothing." He put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "On the other hand, there is a detective on his way here right now, _Miss Barnes_. You had your chance, and you blew it by lying to us. We had a couple of options, but you can kiss the first one goodbye."

Emma bristled at the threat, and the wrath in her voice was just as apparent as her complete lack of respect for the man. "Well that's as stupid as you are! What are they gonna do, charge us with vandalism?"

Madison closed her eyes and felt hot streaks as tears fell down her face at the next words he uttered. "Not only that, but assault, theft, and attempted murder."

Emma let out a strangled cry, and –

_She floated in space, and the sky burned with fury. There was an impossibly huge _thing_ that hung above her. It twisted and shed crackling flakes of eye-bending, crystalline material. The flecks floated down, and grew and grew. _

[AGREEMENT. COLLISION. INTERFACE.]

_Her eyes rolled up into the back of her -_

Madison came back to the office in a state of confusion. She had fallen forward onto the table, and her mother was shaking her by the shoulders. The men were shouting, and there was a stuttering, whimpering crying coming from across the table. That was all drowned out by the shrieking of – _is that Emma? s_he thought. She pushed her hands against the table and looked up in time to see Emma. Her body was contorted, jaws wide. But her eyes, they glowed with a virulent, green light that was painful to look at.

And somehow, Madison knew what was about to happen. "MOM!" She flung her hands out to the sides and felt something tear out of her with such force that her body jolted _hard._ Emma's screams reached a volume that made her eardrums shiver painfully.

And then the room was washed away in an intense green flame.

* * *

**Near Winslow High  
Detective Lozano**

Markus cursed the slow grinding of the wheels of justice for the third time as he tried to navigate through the traffic near Winslow High. He had warned Mr. Hebert that it might have been better to wait until the next day, but the man was stubbornly insistent. The District Attorney had been reluctant to pursue the Hebert girl's plan. In the end, she had drafted two sets of papers: One for the plea agreement, and the other for a harder line of prosecution.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and grimaced. The meeting had started at two thirty, and it was nearly ten after three now. Mr. Hebert had more or less gotten Blackwell to dance to his tune, which was fine. "Come on, get out of the way," he muttered under his breath. There was a parking space half a dozen yards away, but the cars in front of him were at a standstill.

It wasn't the meeting with the parents and the principal that he was interested in – though he _would_ have preferred to bear witness to it. However, Markus needed to be there for the confrontation with the teenagers. One way or another, there would be consequences for those actions. Tommy had been sent to serve search warrants, so he was on his own here.

When the cars started moving again, his bumper made it halfway across the vacant stall, and he hit the warn-horn to get the little Prius to edge forward. Thankfully, the driver was a parent, and rolled forward just enough to let him squeeze by. The time read three twenty-one, and he put the cruiser in park with a growl. This had taken too long, and he was sure to miss the meeting altogether if he didn't hurry. He slapped the release button on his seatbelt and snatched the manila folders out of the passenger seat while draping his service badge around his neck.

Markus got out of the car and hurried toward the front doors of the school, which still had a handful of students trickling out. Naturally, much of the deadlocked traffic had cleared the parking lot, and he shook his head. "Figures," he grunted. He was maybe twenty yards from the stairs when he heard a horrific scream off to his right. He broke into a run, but he didn't get far before the windows in the same general area exploded outward in a thunderous green fireball, which sent him tumbling and rolling across the pavement.

* * *

**Brockton Bay General  
Taylor Prime/Nostrum**

It was a quiet time in the Oncology Ward, and Taylor had decided to take a short break. Doctor Montazeri had been thrilled to have her visit, not only because he had several patients with various stages of cancer, but because he was among the many who felt that Amy often overextended herself. _'I've seen residency interns who didn't work nearly as hard as that young woman,'_ he'd said. In fact, Taylor hadn't run into a single RN, LPN, or MD who disagreed, except perhaps neurologists. Now, _those_ people had been ecstatic to discover that Taylor didn't have the same limitation that Panacea did.

She and Taylor had spent the better part of the previous evening visiting the various wings of the hospital, once they had thrown together her costume. There had been some grumbling from Taylor about being carted around in a wheelchair, but the hospital had rules. Some of the patients had been reluctant to allow 'Nostrum' to heal them in Amy's place, especially when they saw her in the chair. They had overcome that by demonstrating on Panacea, even if Taylor thought it was a little ghoulish for the other girl to repeatedly cut open the back of her hand with a scalpel. She had insisted that it was fine, and so Taylor set aside her squeamishness.

Taylor's brand of healing was similar to Amy's, with a couple of major differences. Firstly, touch wasn't required because a soft bluish light radiated from her palms – the range didn't really matter, but Taylor kept it to a foot or so. The other thing that made Nostrum's power unusual was that instead of repairing the damage, it was reversed. Amy had described it as something akin to cellular reversion, and Taylor suspected that it was tied together with her temporal powers.

By the time the first hour had come and gone, word had quickly spread throughout the hospital about the new healer, Nostrum. She and Amy visited each ward and worked with two or three patients, and then moved to the next, with promises to return the next day. Their reasoning had been that while Nostrum was confident in her ability to help out in almost all cases, Panacea would have to verify before the administration would sign off on anything. It was perfectly understandable to her, and so she went along with it amiably.

The plan had been fine right up until Amy had tried to guide Taylor past the neurology wing. A disagreement had broken out between them, and the nearby nurses had needed to intervene. Amy's strong aversion to anything brain-related puzzled Taylor at first, but once they got her to talk about it, Taylor understood her trepidation. Changing the makeup of a person's mind with powers could, according to the more experienced healer, drastically alter the personality. It was something that she suspected Panacea was capable of, but she chose not to press the issue – something deeper was at the root of the argument, but one of the nurses had gone and fetched a departing doctor.

Anwar Montazeri had agreed that while it was indeed possible to have unexpected results from changes to a person's brain, it was no less the case with any neurosurgery. In the end, he convinced Panacea to let Nostrum attend to one of his Alzheimer's patients. His arguments were twofold: Said patient was hopelessly lost within their dementia to the point that Taylor couldn't possibly make his condition worse. The man's spouse was visiting at that moment, and the poor woman was more than willing for anyone to help her husband.

Nostrum had sat by quietly as Panacea gently explained things, and Missus Meyer (as she referred to herself) was overjoyed at the mere possibility of getting her beloved husband back. After so many years of watching him slip away, she was desperate for the chance, and had all but begged on hands and knees for Taylor to try. Her desperate hope was such that even Amy relented and held old Georgie's hand as Taylor made the attempt.

The first few moments after she had performed the healing, Georgie had looked around in confusion. When he saw his wife, however, he recognized her; he spoke as lucidly as any normal person might, and seemed to be in full possession of all his faculties. The tears of joy from Annabelle had overwhelmed Taylor to the point that she had to excuse herself. Amy had followed behind, and though she said nothing, her eyes were a bit misty as well.

Doctor Montazeri had given the two girls a little space as he tended to his newly-recovered patient for a short time. When he rejoined them a short distance down the hall, he had hugged them both gratefully. They spent a few minutes discussing careful plans to see who else Nostrum might be able to help in a day or two, and Taylor felt as if maybe she'd finally won Amy over. They had gone to the cafeteria and discussed things over baloney sandwiches and fruit cups. Panacea would come for the next few days to monitor Nostrum's healing, and then she would be taking a much-deserved break.

Taylor had wandered the halls that night as Nostrum, getting familiar with the night-shift nurses, as well as looking over charts of numerous patients. There had been some objection to this at first, but a thoughtful head nurse had resolved the issue by having her watch the latest HIPAA training video. It had been a good two hours between the video and the test, but she didn't feel as if her time had been wasted. Most of it was common sense, but there were a couple of business-related items that she might have made the wrong choice for.

However, there was only so much wandering that Taylor could do, and so she had amused herself by watching the men and women of BB-Gen work. She took the time to learn some of the things that they did, and had even helped with some of the more basic tasks. At first they had tried to get her to sleep, but once she'd explained that her power basically negated the need for it, they had cheerfully accepted her help. They were too polite to say so, but Taylor got the sense that Amy was laser-focused on helping as many patients as possible, and not at all concerned about any but the most crucial of paperwork. And there was a boat-load of it to go around; she was awed by the sheer amount of paper the hospital went through on a nightly basis, and that was _with_ computers.

Before she knew it, the morning sun rose to shine into the hospital windows. The first few hours she continued to lend a hand where she could, chair-bound as she was notwithstanding (_ha-ha,_ she thought). It wasn't until midmorning when she finally met with Arthur Higgins, the chief administrator of BB-Gen. He had been aware of her since the day previous, and though he had been too busy to meet with her straightaway, he had a long-standing relationship with Panacea. He trusted the New Wave healer's judgment, and so had tacitly approved Taylor's testing.

Arthur wasn't a doctor himself, but he was conversant enough, having served as the head of the hospital for nearly twelve years. Taylor liked the man; he wasn't quite old enough to be considered grandfatherly, but he had an honest face and a pleasant demeanor. He had been pleasantly surprised to learn that she was a Noctis cape, and even more pleased to find that she had made serious efforts to do more than just 'fix people and rush to the next one'.

He had been curious about how much she intended to come and help. Because of Panacea, they had a never-ending stream of the sick and injured, which didn't surprise her. Taylor had alluded to a regular schedule, one that would give Amy some down-time, and it was met with hearty approval. There was one big catch that caught her off guard. Because Amy was a member of the Protectorate-affiliated team, insurance wasn't an issue. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Taylor. The solution was simple: File affiliation paperwork.

Taylor had balked at this, at first, and he did his best to set her at ease. Her main concern was over her identity, and Arthur had quashed that right away. New Wave was open about their identities by choice, but it certainly wasn't a requirement, not as far as he _or_ the Protectorate were concerned. Because of the situation, he himself was aware of her identity, but he had been very careful not to refer to her by her real name. At this point, the only people in the building that knew who she was were limited to himself, Doctor Simmons, and Panacea; as far as everyone else was concerned, she was Nostrum. He lightened the mood by teasing her a bit with the colloquial use of the word. Taylor hadn't realized that the name was associated with the snake-oil salesmen of yore, but it amused her all the same. She finally gave in and agreed to meet with a PRT representative, and he made a phone call to set it up.

The other surprise that she hadn't expected was the prospect of being paid. He was baffled by the fact that it did, and she asked why Panacea didn't receive the same consideration. He had soured on that topic, and would only say that there was some sort of problem with it. All told, their meeting lasted for about an hour, and they agreed to revisit the issue when her father was available later on.

Taylor returned to working with the staff, who had all heard of her through the grapevine by then. The day wore on into the afternoon, and shortly after the schools let out, Glory Girl showed up with Amy in tow. Amy had just finished introducing them to one another when a tone rang throughout the hospital.

Amy had grown somber, and judging by Vicky's reaction, she seemed to know what was going on as well. Taylor had followed them to the nearest station to find out, and her heart sank down into her guts as Victoria flew out the nearest window.

Winslow High had been blown up, and the hospital was expecting casualties.

**A/N - So I got this idea stuck in my head after a _very_ weird dream. I know many of you were probably expecting (or hoping) for something different. I hope this is just as satisfying to read as it was to write. Feedback would be most welcome, as this is a semi-moderate deviation from what I had planned originally. **


	16. 3-1 - Chaosium

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** Topic: Explosion at Winslow High  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay  
Bagrat** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on January 5, 2011:  
At approximately 3:39pm EST, there was an explosion at Winslow High School. At the time of this writing, the details of the event itself are sketchy. Here's what we know so far:

* Classes had let out for the day shortly before the incident, but there were still an unknown number of students and staff inside the building.  
* The explosion appears to have emerged from the general vicinity of the Principal's office (pictures here, here, and here).  
* The flames were unusually green in color, accompanied by sizable electrical discharges of similar hue.  
* Law enforcement was already on scene in pursuit of an unrelated matter, and so emergency services were rapid in their response.  
* Due to the nature of the flame's unusual coloring, PRT ENE and The Protectorate arrived on scene shortly after police, fire, and EMS.  
* As can be seen from the photos, a sizable portion of the building has collapsed.

At this point, the total number of casualties/fatalities is unknown, though there were thirty-seven people in the immediate vicinity of the building that were injured. The offices were situated far enough away from exits that those outside were partially shielded from the blast. Thankfully these are limited in their worst to broken bones and moderate lacerations. A list of known survivors can be found here. If you are searching for relatives or friends, look through the list first; if a relative is missing, BBPD contact information can be found here - reach out and let them know.

Due to the nature of the explosion, consensus is that it is likely to be parahuman in origin. There are a number of chemical reactions that produce green flames, but not the electricity. There are no known capes with this sort of effect, so the current theory is a new trigger of some sort. One witness claimed to hear screaming just before the explosion occurred, though this has yet to be corroborated.

Search and rescue efforts are ongoing, and Fortress Construction has been called in with heavy equipment to help shift some of the debris. Currently, Armsmaster, Velocity, Kid Win, Vista, and Clockblocker are on site, as well as Glory Girl and Lady Photon.

I'll update this thread as more information becomes available. If you're in the area, advice is to clear out and give the first-responders room to work. Traffic has been cordoned off four blocks out, so if your commute takes you past, reroute accordingly.

All uninjured students that were left without a way home have been taken to a rally point at the shuttered Walgreens on 32nd and Primrose. Parents unable to find their children should call the aforementioned BBPD non-emergency number listed above.

Edit: Cell phone video can be found here. I'll keep looking for other video, but so far that's it - low quality and some distance away.

Edit: Professional analysis (thank you Nate) concludes the explosion was neither chemical nor electrical in nature, lending credence to a cape-based attack theories. We should still wait for official forensic reports, but I agree with this assessment for now.

Edit: Video [link] with slightly better quality courtesy of XeroShade.

**(Showing Page 12 of 15)**

**► Klaxxo**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Holy crap! I was at the edge of the parking lot when this happened, and I still got knocked off my feet! Class had hardly been out for 20 minutes, so there were definitely still a bunch of people inside! I'll call my mom just as soon as my ears stop ringing.

Edit: I already texted her, and she tried to call me.

**► Mut0rcs** (Irregulars)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
That video is *really* bad - has anyone tried to clean it up yet?

**► FlowerPlower**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
That's gotta be a trigger event - what else could it be? I mean, I hear things about Winslow, but surely it's not THAT bad...

**► Whatschercallinit**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Any chance it might have been a tinker bomb to take out the principal? I heard something effed up happened there on Monday, not sure about the details tho.

**► Klaxxo**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:

FlowerPlower

Dude, it's so much worse than you think. Winslow has a bad reputation for a reason.

Mut0rcs

I think Xero is working on it. Also, your username is gross – funny, but gross.

Whatschercallinit

I heard some girl got stuffed in her gross locker a couple of days ago, but the cops locked everyone out before anybody really had a chance to find out what it was all about. As far as I know, they took her to BB Genearl, so I doubt this was her.

**► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Temp-banned)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
[Post deleted]

[User temp banned - 24 hours]

Privacy of a victim notwithstanding, speculation on cape identities is against the rules. You should know this by now. Have a 24-hour ban while you think about it some more. -Alathea

**► FlowerPlower**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Dude, NOT cool! It's nice that you want to stick up for someone, but have a little more common sense!

**► FrameRake_29**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
You're wasting your breath, Flower - he's never going to learn. Maybe one day they'll actually perma-bann his sorry a**.

**► TheNateGate** (Power Guru)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
That's definitely not a chemical explosion for sure (source: I am in demolitions). It doesn't sound like high-voltage, like a transformer blowing up. With those, usually you get a lot of sparks, but no actual huge bolts like that - it doesn't even sound right. Stuff like that comes with a low-pitched, very loud buzzing that you feel as much as hear. The quality of the video is terrible, but it almost sounds like screeching.

I hope to hell nobody was in the office area, otherwise they're probably toast. =[

**► XeroShade** (Veteran Member)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
I tried to clean it up, but the phone camera must have been extra garbo, so it's not much better - link here.

**► Infinauseam**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Yeah, there's almost no difference, but thanks for trying, Xero.

**► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Xero - This version is less pixelated - OP link updated.

**► Misanthrope**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
My cousin goes to that school - she said that there were some teachers and students called into the office just before the last bell – I'm no cowboy, so I won't name any names.

Edit: Guys, I'm sure the cops have better things to do than hear about that right now. In fact, I bet they probably already know.

**► RadioMonkey**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
-Misanthrope,  
You or your cousin should probably let them know, just in case.

I hear they've been having trouble moving much of the debris.

**► FlowerPlower**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Misanthrope

RadioMonkey is right, you never know who's spoken up and who hasn't. That doesn't bode well for said staff/students that were probably in there when it went boom.

**► Vista** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Misanthrope, can you PM me that info? Everyone here has been a little busy to ask questions, and I'm waiting in case they need someone snatched out from under the rubble. I'll be sure to pass it on to Armsmaster.

**► Misanthrope**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Vista - o7 - In your inbox! Has anyone been pulled out yet?

**► Glory Girl** (Verified Cape) (New Wave)  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
I managed to get five people out of stable parts of the building that are still standing. Nobody's been able to get at the parts that fell down yet - the combat engineers are still assessing things.

**► FlowerPlower**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
Great job GG! Hopefully they'll be able to start soon.

**► Fleet_Float**  
Replied on January 5, 2011:  
A school exploded and partially fell down in Brockton Bay? It must be Tuesday... Seriously, why does bad sh*t always happen over there?

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15**

Vista stood several yards back from the edge of the building, next to Dennis, both in costume. They had been whisked away from their respective schools and brought directly here, and she watched the scene with no small amount of worry. All that they had been told about so far was the event itself, and even though it hadn't been necessary, what was needed from them. She and Clockblocker were paired up for search and rescue. She would be ready to rescue anyone they uncovered if crews couldn't do so safely, and Dennis would be ready to lock down any shifting chunks of the building if they needed it.

They both watched as Kid Win moved back and forth on his hoverboard, above where the third story used to be. He and Glory Girl were both taking video of the debris from different angles for the construction crews to analyze. Several men and women were gathered around the back of a PRT van with Armsmaster, all of whom were staring intently at a pair of large monitors. Occasionally someone would point to something and make an observation, while one man in denim coveralls marked a corresponding area on the chart-board beside them.

Dennis fidgeted and shifted his stance, and she tried to ignore it. Standing in place waiting to be called on chafed at her as much as it did him, but there was nowhere to sit except the dusty blacktop. "I hope they don't have to wait too long," he said. "What's PHO saying?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Just about what you'd expect. There's some video, but they haven't been able to do much with it." She decided not to say anything about Misanthrope's PM. There would be time enough for the details later, though she had taken time to forward the message to Armsmaster. "Stay focused, Clock – they might need us to jump in soon."

"Right," he muttered. They both continued to watch as first responders and heroes worked together on the rescue plan. There was no way of knowing how many people were trapped inside, but the latest headcount put the total at around sixty students and maybe a dozen staff. They waited for another half hour before Armsmaster waved them over.

Vista approached the van with Clockblocker close behind, and Glory Girl landed nearby to join them. She glanced at the New Wave girl, and suppressed a frown; it wasn't that she _disliked_ the girl. Vicky Dallon was friendly and always willing to help, but she was hot-headed at the best of times. Her cape name really said a lot about her attitude. The way she treated Dean was awful as often as it wasn't – he could do so much better. She took a deep breath and pushed her jealousy aside, and focused on the task at hand.

The diagram that had been slowly filled in was quite detailed. Black lines traced the original dimensions of the collapsed part of the school, and red lines overlaid the blueprint, which Armsmaster began explaining without preamble. "We're going to do this in stages," he said, pointing to the left-most side of the debris. "The combat engineers have determined the best approach to clearing away the rubble, and have suggested we start with the entrance foyer." He tapped the area on the board, and then gestured toward the corresponding part of the building beside them. "Glory Girl, we're going to have you shift the more manageable pieces over to the parking lot that's been cordoned off. There will be a crew arriving soon to begin clearing that away, but for now just put them in the taped-off portion as carefully as you can."

Vicky nodded gravely. "I should be able to handle most of that. What do you want me to do if I find bigger pieces farther down?"

He nodded approvingly. "Each piece will have to be evaluated in real-time, but if possible, Vista will reduce them to something manageable." He looked at both of them before continuing. "Before you do that, wait for confirmation over comms: We don't want to risk the debris pile from shifting. If you find survivors, prioritize their safety." The armored man pointed up to Chris and said, "Kid win will provide overwatch, and we will coordinate from here. It goes without saying, be careful and work quickly, but don't rush. Every minute counts."

He turned to look at Dennis, who acknowledged the older man. "Yeah boss, emergency freezing duty – you want us in the bucket?" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the utility truck with the boom deployed so the bucket sat waiting on the ground. The platform operator stood near the back of the truck, talking into a handheld radio.

"Exactly so, Clockblocker. Any other questions?" When no one asked any, he nodded. "Alright, let's get to work." The other capes dispersed to their assigned stations, but Vista remained behind for a moment. "Something else, Vista?"

She pulled out her phone and brought up the private message, "Yes, sir. Not immediately important, but I didn't want to forget about it." She held up the screen, and Armsmaster leaned forward to look at it. "I don't know that it will help, but it seems like potentially important information.

"Yes, it's not urgent," he agreed, "but thank you for taking the initiative – I'll be sure to inform the local authorities. Off you go." She put the phone back in her utility belt and moved to join Dennis at the waiting platform.

Max Anders stood before his assembled Empire, encased in his battle armor. His lieutenants flanked him on either side, and the assembled un-powered members spread out before him, some four hundred men and women, all dedicated to the cause. Word had reached him of the incident at the school by means of his moles in the PRT, and he had moved swiftly to capitalize on the event.

He raised his voice to address the people before him. "Brothers and Sisters of the Empire! As most of you have likely heard, there was an explosion at Winslow High. Some of you have family there, and this obvious attack by the sub-humans WILL NOT STAND!" He paused for a moment as roars and screams of anger thundered through the warehouse, and then he raised his hands for silence. "We shall respond in kind. You will break into groups and join my capes, and then together you will deliver swift justice to the ABB, who are sure to be the cause of this atrocity. Spare none, not even the Protectorate, who claim to defend this city, only to allow this to happen. Strike fast, show no mercy, and do the same for any who stand in our way!"

The response, if anything, was louder than the last. They were sheep, easily led; he extruded a sword and swung it upward. **"FOR THE EMPIRE!" **The chorus of voices that responded shook the rafters, and as one, his capes moved forward and began pointing at people in the crowd.

Quan knelt before the most feared man in all of Brockton Bay as he delivered his report. Lung listened patiently as he relayed what details he had learned, including the rumor mill of the Parahumans Online message boards. "Enough," Lung growled, and Quan immediately stopped speaking. "Quan Xiang, you will gather our forces and rally them to strike into Empire territory. This is their doing, and they will pay in blood and death. Send word to Bakuda that she is needed-"

His command was interrupted as another man rushed into the room and prostrated himself next to Quan, who clenched his eyes shut. "What is this?" Everyone knew Lung hated being interrupted, and Quan cursed the man for his proximity.

"Apologies, Lord, but I have received word that the casino is destroyed!" Quan could not prevent the rushed intake of breath, which he held against further outburst.

Lung snarled. "Destroyed? They _dare?_" The temperature in the room rose significantly. "What happened? Speak quickly, or I will kill you and find out myself."

The man next to Quan shook like a leaf, but managed to grind out words. "It is not certain what happened, only that a green bolt of lightning struck from the sky and then rampaged through the building. One of the guards escaped to call-"

"Silence!" he shouted, and the temperature rose yet again. Quan could smell smoke now, and prayed that he would see another sunrise. "Quan Xiang, why are you still here? Summon Bakuda, **_now_**_._" Quan gratefully shot to his feet and sprinted from the room in search of a phone.

Squealer cursed and threw her wrench down with a satisfying clang, and reached for the ball peen. She needed to get this done before the next shipment; Skids was never patient, and he hardly ever gave her a chance to get choice materials, so her work was twice as hard, especially when-

"Motherfucking shit stringing cunt puss fuckers!" – when he did things like burst into her workshop on a tear. "Squeals! Tell me that fucking thing is goddamn ready!" He stomped up to the platform she stood on and kicked it. She had learned early on to make these things sturdy for that exact reason.

"What the fuck, Skids? Whatsamatter?!"

"Fucking stink shit cocksucking dickwhistlers blew up the school! Is it ready or not?!" He made his point by kicking the gantry harder, causing it to wobble.

"Fuck really?" She scowled at his glare – the school could only mean Winslow, which was the only one in town that they could sell drugs in without getting pinched. It wasn't great money, but every dime counted. "If you don't give a shit about having a cloak-"

"Fuck that horseshit bitch, let's ROLL!" She chucked the hammer at him, but he dodged it and stomped off shouting curses and orders in slurred bellows, flinging objects in his path away with his power. She closed up the hatch and clambered onto the cabin. Cloak or no cloak, this monster was going to kick the shit out of somebody. It didn't even cross her mind that she had no idea who, though.

Her world was a raging fury. It was Green. It was dotted with red. The monsters were everywhere, and she screamed. They screamed back. They died easily, but there were so many. They were weak. They had to die. Liquid fire blasted through her and out into the faceless monsters, but there were always more. _He will come._ Good. She would show them all how weak they really were.

**A/N - Sorry it's been so long! After spending some time brainstorming with my editor, I think we've worked the kinks out, so hopefully updates will start rolling again. Probably only once or twice a week, though. Hold on to your hats!**


End file.
